Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year
by Jinxx Draconett
Summary: In Hetlia High, there were unspoken laws that made up the school's popularity system. Punishments for breaking the laws were severe. Arthur Kirkland broke two of these commandments. "Dude, Arthur's a punk AND he's friends with the Bad Touch Trio?" "Oh man, Al's gonna be pissed."
1. From Under The Cork Tree

_**Sophomore Slump or Comeback of The Year**_

_**Pairing: USUK (AlfredxArthur)**_

_**Jinxx Draconett**_

**Prologue**

'**Why the fuck did I agree to come to this?'**

The crowd screams as the excited players begin to chant on the field. The squeals of the boisterous cheerleaders slam into the eardrums of a young gentleman in the front row, annoying him immensely. Jade green eyes twitch in aggravation as a particularly loud shriek hits him.

'_Friggin' loud banshees. The lot of those underdressed bimbos.'_ Arthur Kirkland thinks maliciously. His dark scowl suits his thin, chapped lips well. His aggravated look, the one he has spent the past 16 years of his life perfecting, glares up at the dark clouds above. The lines in his frown deepen as rain begins to fall, dampening his wild sandy blonde locks and leaving splatters on his black trench coat. Shivering, he wraps the fabric around himself to maintain heat. Arthur sneezes as he witnesses a clad of black and white begin to group around a single player, screaming and ripping off their soccer jerseys.

'_Alfred! Alfred! Alfred!' _they shout, hoisting their star striker in the air. Sky blue eyes meet ivy green ones from their throne in the sky, and Arthur can't help but grin at the pearly whites that stare at him.

'_You did well.' _he mouths, chest full of warm pride.

"Thanks Artie!" Alfred F. Jones shouts back. The Brit watches as his American friend is slowly levered to the ground and has his shirt yanked over his head.

"Idiot," Arthur murmurs fondly as he watches the golden haired teen run around the field and howl with the rest of the soccer team in the pouring rain. He bites back a laugh as he witnesses over half of them fall into a muddy heap from slipping, excluding Alfred of course. The player has enough sense to run back to their team's bench and pick up his things.

Arthur taps his foot impatiently as Alfred gathers his items. What is taking him so long? Does he want Arthur to walk home without him? He won't wait for him forever!

Arthur's scowl turns into a twisted grimace of pure loathing as a boy from the crowd taps Alfred on the shoulder. He watches as Alfred and the boy converse _much too closely for his liking_ and laugh. Who is the mysterious blonde haired wanker in the bleachers? Arthur doesn't know him, and he knows practically everything about Alfred.

They are best friends right? They knew each other's friends and enemies by heart. Key word?

**Knew.**

Arthur tries not to look nonchalant as Alfred approaches, the blonde boy hanging off his arm with a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Can you go home by yourself for today Arthur? Me and Tino need to go somewhere."

"It's _Tino and_ _I _you git!" Arthur exclaims, stabbing all traces of hurt in his gut.

"Do what you want. I am not a child." His voice remains as strong and strict as it is usually. He most definitely isn't affected by Alfred's statement. "I can find my way home just fine."

The American grins and ruffles his hair. He scowls and fails to rearrange his mop of unruly spikes just as his friend says,

"Great! See you tomorrow then!"

"Goodb…"Arthur's voice fades as Alfred and Tino run out of earshot.

'_Oh,'_

That isn't the sound of his heart shattering. That definitely is not the sound of his heart shattering. Dejectedly, Arthur makes his way to the northern exit and does his best not to turn and stare at Alfred and his new friend. They are just friends,_ right_?

Suddenly, in a panic, Arthur whips around to find Alfred's arm around Tino's waist. A slight rage builds up inside him…then it cools. It's fine. He doesn't really care. They probably are just friends. No, they **are **just friends. There was no bloody _probably_ included.

"That does not look like just friends to me mon ami."

"F-Francis!"

Blue eyes swivel to meet Arthur's with an impish gaze. The Brit turns red, out of fury and embarrassment for the fact that he voiced his thoughts aloud.

"Bonjour, Monsieur _Amore-frappe_."

Arthur resists the urge to yank his frenemy's silky, blonde ponytail out of his head and instead, slaps the other's hand away from his waistline.

"What are you doing you bloody wanker?"

"You're angry aren't you? Is this jealously ebbing from your pores?"

The teen reaches out and caresses his face with an almost ridiculing smile on his face. Arthur swiftly steps back, looking like an aggravated kitten.

"What? No! Rubbish! I'm not his girlfriend or anything! Why in the world would I be jealous?"

Arthur is turning redder by the second, and Francis acknowledges this fact with pure glee. The Frenchman smirks and snatches Arthur's umbrella out of his hand. When the roof of the device is properly propped up, Francis grasps Arthur by the wrist and leads them out of the field.

"You are jealous. You simply refuse to admit it." He boldly declares as their shoes splash in the puddles on the sidewalk. Arthur's normal facial shade and scowl have returned.

"I am not. Alfred can date whoever he wants. We are just really good friends. If he wants to screw around with guys then let him! I have no objections. It's not like I'm homophobic."

"I never said you were."

Francis' amused smirk and sly glance were enough to send Arthur into a void of untamable rage, but he maintains his gentlemanly composure, gritting his teeth all the while.

"You implied it," he says sullenly.

"No, I implied that you hold envy. They are completely irrelevant yet relevant to one another. Like distant cousins _non_?"

"Don't speak in riddles you little contradiction! I am not envious! I have no idea how you derived that from my actions.

"I never said you were envious, I said you were jealous. Ohohohoho~"

Arthur's blush returns and dyes his entire face red. Francis draws in close until he can whisper into Arthur's hair.

"You like him don't you?"

"**YOU PERVERT!" **

The traffic light pauses, half green, half red. Pigeons slowly turn to stare. The rain stops and people stare at them through the window of their cars. Arthur reddens as little kid stops his bicycle ride just to stare at the two. The Frenchman throws his shoulder length locks back as he laughs skywards. Arthur, already reaching his limit of embarrassment, drags the giggling lunatic across the street. When they have successfully crossed, life returns. People bring their heads back into their cars, the pigeons continue to roam the streets, the flashlight begins to blink normally and the little boy rides his bicycle again, although he is eternally scarred.

Francis continues to hoot and chortle, much to his companion's disdain.

"To answer your question; No, no I do not 'like' him in the way that you imply."

"Oh vraiment? Vous êtes dans le déni." Francis laughs as his native language slip from his lips.

"Do not worry. I will assist you in getting your best friend back."

"I don't need to get him back! I still have him!" Arthur says heatedly, affronted by the very thought. Francis sends him a half-lidded, sideways stare.

"Do you not remember the fight you guys had at the end of seventh grade?"

The British man falls silent at this.

"The two of you were absolutely raging at each other from what I hear. I was not in your class of course, but the word travelled pretty quickly. Alfred completely revolted against you did he not? He found a new friend that time too. Do you want that to happen again?"

"…No." Arthur grumbles, the very memory souring his mood even more. As if sensing this, Francis chooses to make his escape before he is forced to face a depressed Arthur.

"I shall call a few people and see how they can help me fix you."

"What is wrong with me?"

"Everything." Francis replies without skipping a beat.

" We will probably meet and thoroughly discuss in our lunch period tomorrow. Make sure that you use your manners Arthur." He winks and leaves the security of Arthur's umbrella.

"Wait! Francis! Why are you helping me? Are we not still enemies?" Arthur knows that his words reach the Frenchman, but the other only chuckles and sends him a backwards wave.

"_Je le fais parce que c'est son souhait." _Arthur hears. He curses when he realizes that it's the other's native language.

"Damn French bastard. He could at least have the courtesy to say it in English."

In a rage, Arthur runs to his house before he is completely dampened by the rain. As he stands under his ledge, he can hear his brothers laughing inside with his mother. Francis' evil smirk comes to mind as he hears his devious older brother, Draco, snickering.

When Francis smirks, interesting things are to happen. But whether or not Arthur will benefit from these things is unknown.

Yes! November is over and I finally get to post this! This is going to be my little pet project for the year. I really like the concept and so I really want to see it through.

A few notes my dear readers

-I want reviews for critique. Devour my writing, spit it out, and complain about all that I did wrong. Don't flame. Just critique. I'm sure you all know the difference between one and the other.

-Somewhat slow relationship development. I'm not going to hook them up by the 10th chapter. Sorry. It's too unrealistic for this AU and I absolutely hate this kind of relationship rush in a fanfic.

-No smut. I'm under the age of 16. The most I can do is a heated make-out scene. I hate teenage sex too. *shrugs* Go figure.

-Have fun reading it. I want you to enjoy this fic. My goal is to make you laugh more than anything else. Angst doesn't play a major part in this story. (Who needs angst when you have a Punk! Arthur?)

All other notes can be found on my profile page. If you have any questions, you may ask them in a review or a PM. I'll answer them all on my profile page.


	2. 1:Our Lawyer Made Us Change The Name

**Chapter 1: Our Lawyer Made Us Change The Name Of This Song So We Wouldn't Get Sued**

Arthur Kirkland was, and had always been, a man of pride. This fact was evident in the way he carried himself, the way he spoke, and how he (almost) always had the confidence to insert his opinions into any conversation. But, it was because of this pride, that he had an ultimate fear of making a fool of himself. Which Francis tended to do for him quite frequently.

So when Francis came up to his lunch table with a girl, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, Arthur instinctively picked up his tray and began to speed away.

Unfortunately, the frog stuck out his foot before Arthur could pass. The Frenchman caught the tray, and all the food on it, with ease and a charming smile. He could have caught Arthur before the teen fell to the ground, but they were frenemies and...

Well, who needed Arthur's face when there was sugar cookies?

"Hello Arthur. This is Elizaveta Héderváry. She's my friend from Art Class."

Arthur rubbed his cheek, hoping it wouldn't bruise, and looked to the new girl.

She was some mix of femininity and masculinity, the perfect tomboy. Obviously, her body shape and her hair appeased her feminine traits, but boyish characteristics found their way into her image. A light blush covered her face she flashed a celebrity's smile. Her dark brown hair framed her baby face, covering her forehead in a sideways part. From under long eyelashes, she stared up at him. But within her green eyes, there was a fierceness Arthur saw in the animals his mother cared for. He only saw that kind of gaze in a wolf's eyes before it was sedated.

Elizaveta was a fiery girl, he could tell. Her clothes were eye-catching, and rebellious in the sea of _Hollister_ t-shirts. She wore a patched, black, leather jacket over a and ripped skinny jeans. Her dark boots were clean, fidgeting as they toed the floor nervously.

"Hi! Arthur right? You can call me Lizzy. Everyone does."

Even in her voice, there lay an undertone of willfulness. A tinge that reminded Arthur of his own voice. He took a liking to her immediately. Great minds do speak alike after all.

"Hello Lizzy. Pleased to meet you." He shook her outstretched hand and the three moved to sit down. Francis shoved Arthur's lunch at him only after he stole the cookie on the edge of the tray. After receiving an intense glare, the frenchman only winked.

"So I'll be your fashion coordinator from now on!" Lizzy said brightly. Another accusing look was shot at the French teen.

'_Damn wanker.'_ Arthur thought as he bit the lettuce off his spork. He quickly swallowed as he realized Lizzy was waiting for him to continue the conversation.

"What did you have in mind?" Arthur had to bite down a smile as he saw Francis' expression turn into one of shock. So the other wanted him to react with an angry rant huh? Oh, no. He was _definitely_ going to be as agreeable as possible now.

Elizaveta bit her lip unsurely as she glanced over Arthur's form. She tilted her head and pulled out a notebook, scribbling furiously. She looked from Arthur, to her paper, and back again before scratching something out and writing once more. Suddenly, she shoved a paper in his face.

"Are these your correct measurements?"

Arthur's greens scanned over the numbers on the paper and, to his amazement, not a single one was off the mark.

"Remarkable! How did you do that?"

"It takes a lot of practice kid. Anyway, Francis, he's slim but not a six-pack slim. You'll have to do something to fix that. I can't work with flab."

"I've already got someone to work with him mon chere. The problem will be solved by the end of the month. I can't guarantee a six pack but he'll be on the road to one."

Elizaveta nodded and scrawled something else down in her notebook.

"Alright, until then we'll have to be subtle in his style change. Now, we'll decide on the final effect. What style are you going for Arthur?"

The British man didn't know what to say.

"D-Do I have any specific styles to choose from?" He asked, reddening.

"It depends on whether you want me to work with a style I've mastered or not."

"We'll work with what you have mastered," Francis intervened. "We want a quick and effective result."

"Alright. Alright." The girl flipped to a different page in her notebook.

"The styles that I'm really good at are: Prep,"

Francis quickly waved the word away.

"Alfred sees too many of those guys on a daily basis. It won't be eye catching."

The girl performed a perfect spit-take, making vitamin water catch Francis in the pupil. ("_Sacrebleu!") _ Her eyes widened as she turned to the Brit.

'_You have a crush on Alfred F. Jones? The star of almost every athletic team in this school?'_

"I do not have a crush on him!"

"Have a crush on who?"

All three heads swiveled to find the man in question looking at them curiously. Tino was right by his side, Arthur noticed with disdain.

"No one Al. It's nothing. We're just…debating over something."

"Can I join?" Arthur's stomach twisted as Alfred's smile went up excitedly. And-oh no-there were the bright, puppy dog eyes that begged him to comply with whatever Alfred wished. He almost couldn't bring himself to say no. Almost.

"Oh, we wouldn't want to separate you and Tino. You two should enjoy your lunch period."

For a moment, Arthur thought he saw a flash of hurt cross the blonde's face. But then Al simply shrugged, banishing all sense of concern.

"Alright. Come on Tino."

"Coming Alfie!"

_**ALFIE?**_

Cursing everything he could think of, Arthur stabbed his salad repeatedly. When he felt the gaze of his company, he barked,

"What?"

"Dude, you're, like, totally jealous."

"I am not!"

"Mon ami, your face is crimson. You were grinning when you saw Alfred, frowned when you saw Tino and absolutely grimaced when you heard the boy say 'Alfie.'."

Francis smiled as he leant back into his chair. The damn prick was proud of his observation. Despite the fact that it was _totally_ false.

"_La jalousie tis. _Anyway, let us get back to business. Arthur can't go 'Prep' and he can't stick with his current metro sexual look. What else do you have?"

"Mmm…Jock?"

"He sees too many of those too."

"Gothic?"

"We want to attract him, not freak him out. It'll stand out though. Something close to that."

"Dark Lolita?"

"Colder."

"Scene Kid?"

"Warmer. He'll get beat up though. We don't want that. You know how our school has quite a bit Anti-scene and emo petitioners.

Elizaveta sighed.

"It's a shame too. I would've loved to give him extensions and a girl's raccoon tails."

Arthur didn't even want to know what she meant by raccoon tails.

"How about we make him a Mod?"

"It wouldn't be too much of a change for Arthur now would it?"

The girl pursed her lips, racking her brains for another option. Both blondes looked at her in silence, Arthur quietly fuming and Francis smirking softly.

"How about a punk rocker? You seem pretty free-spirited. It could work out."

The Hungarian looked to Francis for approval. His growing smile was all she needed for confirmation.

"I concur."

Elizaveta clapped her hands happily.

"Awesome! I'll get some CDs to make sure Arthur's familiar with the entire music scene before we dress him up. Let's see; I have _The Clash, Green Day,…_"

Punk rock? He knew a bit about punk rock. Although, he only really listened to the classics. The Ramones and The Misfits were what he had been listening to as far back as he remembered. Back when he and his older brothers had a relationship healthy enough to sing _'I want you around' _or _'Anarchy in the UK'_ aloud in a lovely chorus. He knew all the lyrics to_ Rock N' Roll Radio_ and _Die, Die My Darling_, but had absolutely no idea what the Hungarian girl was spouting from her mouth.

"_What _the _bloody hell_ is a _**Fall Out Boy**_?"

Green eyes stared at him like he grew two heads.

"You're not familiar with punk rock?"

"_I've _been listening to Punk Rock since I was conceived. I was rocking out to _Sheena Is a Punk Rocker _in the womb. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sheena is a Punk…Oh! That's a Ramones song! You're into the originals! You've got the roots. I've been listing the modern, alternative bands. Wait, you probably like the Sex Pistols and _God Save the Queen _and all that jazz right?"

"Yes. What of it?"

Lizzy wrote another piece in her notebook.

"Just making sure we're on the same page. I'm probably going to introduce you to some more modern bands so be prepared. It's not going to be 'Punk' per say, but it's as close as this generation's going to get. Keep an open mind while listening. Don't just put down _American Idiot_ as soon as I hand it to you."

It took Arthur a moment to realize it, but he eventually connected the album name to his memory.

"That's a Green Day CD."

Elizaveta appeared surprised, yet pleased.

"You know of them."

"My brother, Draco, loves them. I only really liked Dookie at first though. It took me a while to adapt to the other albums."

"Oh! I love every album Billie Joe puts out! I used to worship the ground he walked on while I was diving into the punk rock music industry."

"You like Armstrong? I admire Tre Cool really. He-,"

"_As much as I am overjoyed to see that you two are getting along_," Francis intervened, slamming his fist on the table.

"I'm afraid Arthur and I have an English Honors class to get to. When can we meet next Elizaveta?"

She twirled her hair around her finger as she hummed.

"Well, Roderich will get mad if I don't eat lunch with him again, so definitely not in our lunch period for the rest of the week. Unless you bring Arthur to sit with the rest of us. I suppose we could meet and actually go shopping for clothes on Friday? Right after school? I can't do Saturdays because that's when Roddy and I practice or go on dates."

"Friday will work." Francis confirmed, not giving Arthur a say in the matter.

"We'll drop off the stuff at my house instead of yours mon chere. I know your mother won't take well to you having clothes all over your room."

Elizaveta smiled at the Frenchman warmly, almost turning Arthur straight.

"Thanks Fran. I'm glad you remembered. Oh! Roderich's here to drop me off at Biology! Got to go guys! See you around the halls Arthur! It was great to finally meet you!"

"Goodbye." Arthur said quickly. The girl picked up her things and practically teleported across the lunchroom so she could jump into a tall man's arms and laugh. The man glanced at Francis and Arthur through his spectacles and gave them a small smile. Arthur returned the grin with a polite nod and looked away as Elizaveta arranged her boyfriend's dark locks back into place.

"We should get going too Arthur. I would hate for us to have to miss English." The Frenchman pointedly beamed past him. Feigning the act of picking up a dropped item, the teen gave whoever was behind him a discreet sideways glance. Mr. Kyouya gave them a solemn nod as they began to leave the lunchroom, clutching the tonfas he carried everywhere menacingly.

"That teacher seriously scares me sometimes."

"He's not as frightening as Bianchi from Home Economics though. Ugh, her cooking is terrible!"

"It's almost as bad as yours!"

"…You didn't have to eat my scones if you didn't like them Francis."

The Frenchman grinned and ran ahead of Arthur before saying,

"I didn't know they were going to taste that bad. The stones left such a horrid taste in my mouth."

"Oh ha-ha. Very witty. Your play-on words is absolutely hilarious."

The two remained silent as they wove through a hall of students. Absentmindedly, Arthur glanced around. When a sign in the library window advertising a chess club meeting caught his attention, he realized something crucial.

"Francis."

"Yes?"

"This isn't the way to Sophomore Hall."

"I know. We're going to the rooftop." Before Arthur could protest, Francis grabbed his hand and rushed him through the huge crowd, dodging jocks, flying books and teens on skateboards. Arthur struggled all the way up the stairs and through the corridors, yelling, "Release me you git!"

Francis stopped at the door that led to the rooftop, rapping his knuckles against the metal. Arthur heard a groan and a bit of shuffling before a languid voice asked,

"Who is it?"

"It's Francis Gil. If you would please open the door."

There was another moan and Arthur listened to this 'Gil' character ask,

'_Could you get that for me Mattie?'_

The Brit couldn't hear Mattie's reply but got a full view of the teen when the door opened.

He was Alfred's step-brother and Francis' cousin. Arthur and Matt had met on a few occasions and Arthur found him rather sophisticated and neat. But, his current appearance contradicted that assumption. His red hoodie was sloppily thrown on. The maple leaf on the front was barely distinguishable with all the folds. His golden hair was mussed all about the place and his glasses were askew.

The uptight student was absolutely revolted with his appearance, but Francis just laughed.

"Did you have fun _mon cher cousine_?"

"_O-Oui._" Matthew managed to stammer out. He gave Arthur a brief, flustered nod and sped away, a furious shade of red.

As they strolled up the stairs, Francis' low chuckle trailing them, Arthur caught a glimpse of the _'Gil'_ Francis referred to.

He was an albino, but a rather attractive one at that. His snow white hair was as disheveled as Matthew's but the style looked much better on him. Instead of the average pink, his eyes were a stunning blood red, piercing the city view with a fierce glare. Arthur looked over his shirtless torso and noticed that the other was pretty fit as well. The six pack that stretched across the other's stomach made the Brit slightly self-conscious of his stature. He crossed his arms over his stomach, trying to appear stouter.

"If you would please put on your clothes, I would be grateful. I believe you are mentally scarring him."

Crimson eyed ripped away from the view as the teen sneered at the blondes.

"Screw him. If he doesn't like it, he shouldn't look."

'_He says that, but he tosses on the shirt anyway. Bloody idjit.'_ Arthur thought as Gil reached for the white fabric.

"Arthur, this is Gilbert Beilschmidt. He's my friend or soon to be cousin-in-law judging by what my little Matthieu just looked like."

Francis' expression quickly reverted from one of pleasantry to pure malice as he finished his statement. Gilbert rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, a light pink tint on his face.

"Ha-ha. Yeah, uh, the Prussian-awesome me was a bit too much for Mattie today. We kind of got carried away."

Arthur quickly removed his hand before Francis' grip broke it. He didn't like the dark aura around the Frenchman and, apparently, neither did Gil.

"We didn't have sex of course! But, uh, yeah it got pretty heated. Heh-heh. Your cousin's got spunk. He's cool."

Francis sighed, putting a hand across his head dramatically in an attempt to pause an incoming migraine.

"Sacrebleu…never mind Gil. Let's get to business shall we? We'll talk about your affair with my cute, innocent cousin later. This is Arthur. Elizaveta is turning him into a punk rocker so he can catch the affection of his crush. You will help him with tattoos and piercings."

Gilbert looked to Arthur with a wild grin, and then burst out laughing.

"T-Turning him into a-a punk rocker! Oh, that's a good one! Nice joke Francis."

"Tis no joke." Francis said seriously.

"No. You're wrong. It is a joke." The grin in his eyes is replaced with an offended rage.

"Someone can't just _turn_ punk rock. Do you know the kind of dedication, attitude, and interest it takes to be accepted? The awesome me had to wait 2 years before they stopped trying to beat me up at concerts. This fag won't get anywhere if he's just joining the fad to be an attention whore. No damn place on earth would take him."

There was a tense silence. Then Francis, pale as a sheet, groaned,

"You shouldn't have said that mon ami. You really shouldn't have said that."

"W-What?"

"You used the f word. Arthur hates the f word."

"What? I never said fuck once!"

"No. You said

"_**FAG."**_

Arthur escaped his reach before the Frenchman could stop him. He marched right up to the Prussian and slapped him across the face before kicking him in the groin. He would've jumped on the albino too, if it weren't for the arms pulling him back by the waist. Gilbert squirmed on the ground, giving Arthur some sense of satisfaction.

"Ugh…My five meters! Fuckin' shit man! 'hell was that for?"

"_What was that for?"_ Arthur hissed. "_What the hell_ was that for? I'll friggin tell you, you goddamn idiot! Belt up and listen! You **will** never refer to me using that name ever again. I don't give two flying shits how punk rock you think I am or how punk you think you are. Screw it! I'm still going to listen to my old Misfits CDs, poseur or not. I don't care whether you call me fake, prep, or freakin' nerdy. Just never, **ever** call me a faggot. You fucking…..Oompa Loompa Monkey Problem! Oh, and Prussia's not a nation anymore. Just so you know."

With one final punch in the gut, Arthur shook off Francis' grip and turned on his heel, taking his leave, but not before adding,

"I don't need a makeover Francis. I don't need piercings or tattoos or hair dye. My mom would have a heart attack. I don't need any of those things…but if you force me to get them, I shouldn't have to get them from someone like _that."_

The Brit was ready to run down the stairs, but a yank on his wrist stopped him.

'_Wait, watch.'_ His companion mouthed, pointing at Gilbert.

The albino was rubbing his cheek, and spitting out little dregs of what, Arthur realized was blood. (God, that must have been one rough bitch-slap.) Instantly, the boy felt contrite. He didn't mean to hit the other that hard. He just wanted to get a point across.

Gil kept his gaze to the ground as he muttered something incoherent.

"Fmmmf."

"What?" Francis asked, smug smirk on his face.

"Fuck it! Fine! I'll show him where to get piercings and hook him up with an appointment with Kat. But first we need to discuss where he's getting his piercings and what kind of tattoo he'll get. Nothing lame like a cross on his face or any crazy shit like that. It has to be reasonable."

Arthur doubted he would have the guts to get a tattoo, let alone a cross on his face.

"No time now. We have to get to Monsieur Vargas's History class."

"Then tomorrow. After school. Don't be late. I'll make sure to repay you for all the blows you've given me."

Under the albino's intense glare, the blonde couldn't help but redden.

"Y-Yeah. Sorry 'bout that."

Gilbert shook his head, tittering disapprovingly.

"Awesome Attitude Lesson 1: Never apologize. Don't sweat it. It showed me that you have some spunk in ya'. I like spunk so I guess we'll get along fine... Interrupt my time with Mattie though and I'll kick your ass into next week."

Then, with the stature of a king, he flicked his wrist to cast them off, returning to his city-view. As they ambled down the steps, Francis playfully punched Arthur in the arm.

"Congrats. You've passed your first test."

"Excuse me?"

"Gilbert is, how they say, the most 'badass'-Don't laugh! I'm serious!- kid in this entire school. You beat him and you cut class to do it. Gilbert approved you, though he did not show it. You've earned a bit of his respect, thus you have passed the first test of rebellion. Congratulations."

"S-Shut up. Wanker."

"Oh! Artie!"

Alfred F. Jones. In the flesh. And Tino Vainamoinen. About to be skinned if he didn't step at least 4 feet away from the blonde jock with the charming smile.

"What's up Francis?" The jock acknowledged his cousin with a curt nod.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." Francis politely smiled and looked away, pretending to be intrigued by a fire extinguisher. Bur Arthur knew the other's keen ears would pick up all that they said.

"What do you need Al?

"I…"

Arthur was confused, and slightly ticked as Alfred trailed off, a pink tint on his face. Out of the corner of his awe, he saw Tino pinch the blonde's hand, telling him to get on with it.

"I can't walk home with you today!"

The athlete blurted out. He drew back his hand, and rubbed it vigorously, shooting his offender a dirty look. The American continued to speak nonsense. Something about having to take Tino to Berwald's house so the three could work on a project.

'_As if I'll believe that crap.'_

"Save it. I'll just walk home alone." His tone was like ice, but he really didn't care for faking indifference right then. With a stiff lip, he marched away.

"H-Hey, mon ami-."

"Not now Francis." Arthur said tightly. He wasn't angry. Oh hell no.

_**He was pissed.**_

World History was one of Arthur's best subjects, despite Mr. Vargas absolutely loathing his guts. He always payed attention, wrote the best notes possible, and was the ideal student. But not on that day. As Mr. Vargas continued his rant about Great Rome and Germania with romantic theatrics, Arthur angrily scribbled away in his notebook. A big, dark tornado of curves was on his page. Why?

Because of Alfred F. Jones.

He didn't understand it. Sure they had their fights. Yes, they met other people. But they always walked home together at the end of the day unless the other was sick or there was some dire emergency. The only time Arthur remembered that Alfred blatantly refused walking home with him was back in eight grade after they had a huge spat over something outrageously stupid.

Alfred hated the fact that he still had to pay for Arthur's mum's baked cookies and tea despite the two being best friends. Arthur argued that it wasn't his fault, but his father's. His father was the one that insisted that everyone pay, regardless of their friendship status. Alfred completely broke away from Arthur for a month and began to hang out with Francis, Arthur's worst enemy at the time.

The fight was ridiculous and childish. Arthur knew, but that didn't stop him from conversing more avidly with his Japanese friend, Kiku Honda, instead of Alfred.

But, even after their big, childish brawl, they discovered that they rather adored the other's company and reunited that Halloween night.

However, now there was no clash over tea. Alfred began to avoid Arthur and indulge in Tino's presence out of the blue. And to make matters worse, Francis and Elizaveta were trying to set Alfred and Arthur up, thinking that he had a crush on Alfred of all people. Alfred! They thought he was jealous!

Sure, he absolutely despised it when Alfred blew him off for Tino but that did **not** mean that he was jealous! He just...hated the fact that Alfred did it so suddenly! And in the hallway too! The American should have done it properly within a calmer setting instead of in the middle of a horde of students! And he should've done it when they weren't in the presence of Francis.

Francis. The Frenchman who believed that he was envious.

"Like hell I'm jealous!" Arthur said aloud, annoyed. A looming shadow fell over his desk, making the Brit look up into the chiseled features of one, very amused History teacher.

"Detention Mr. Kirkland. Today. My room."

Arthur sighed as Mr. Vargas slapped his desk with a ruler. As if his day couldn't have gotten any worse.

_"Romano~!"_

_"Get off me you bastard!"_

P.E. The bane of his existence. He stretched in the corner of the gym, and hoped he could remain doing so for 45 minutes.

This hope, however, was quickly dashed by an incoming Frenchman.

"Bonjour!"

"What are you doing here Francis?"

"I didn't feel like attending French."

Arthur rolled his eyes at this. The other was fluent in the language since birth seeing as how his family spoke it around the house frequently. It was just like the frog to choose a language he already knew for easy credits.

"That doesn't explain what you're doing here."

Blue eyes scanned the gymnasium with purpose before Francis pointed across from them.

"There's your new tutor and his love interest."

The Brit had to squint to see, pausing in flexing his legs.

Sure enough, across from them, two boys seemed to be arguing. One was probably a freshman. He was blushing fiercely while trying to force the others arms off of him, muttering profanities all the while. His eyes were a bright amber and his dark brown hair was disheveled. Judging by the ahoge curling out of his messy mop, he was probably one of the Italian twins. He's shoving the taller boy away quite brutally so Arthur assumes that he's Romano, the more aggressive twin.

As for the other boy, he appeared to be in Arthur's year. Another sophomore. He grinned, despite the fact that Romano kept hitting him and laughed as he was on the receiving end of some terrible curses. His green eyes shone with amusement and pleasure as he finally gave up. The Italian was just giving his arms a rest. Five minutes later; the taller boy had to defend himself again. His strong, tanned hands kept up with Romano's blows with ease. He managed to block most punches with a laugh so Arthur assumed that he had had experience with the Italian's acts of violence. His hair was messier than the freshman's, curled to perfection. Arthur managed to catch a closer look as Francis brought them closer to the two, a small smile on the Frenchman's face as well.

"Oi! Antonio! Romano!"

The Spanish man turned to them and let Romano's fist collide with his chest before he approached the two with an excited wave and a bright, sunny smile.

"Francis! Mi amigo! Que tal?" He clapped Francis on the back as his comrade slapped him on the arse in return. They shared cheeky grins as they began to skip (Yes. Skip. Not walk but a happy little prance accompanied with charming laughter and a sexy Spanish/ French conversation.)

"Bien gracias." The blonde replied smoothly. "Y tu?"

"Ah, Asi Asi. You know how it is."

"Continuer à essayer."

"Affirmative mon ami. Affirmative."

_'They know each other's native languages? How friendly are they?'_ Arthur couldn't believe what he heard as the two switched from French to Spanish to English in a seconds. They laughed and Arthur figured it polite for him to let them catch up. He turned to Romano, who was still fighting a blush.

"Just how close are they? To know each other's native languages like that?" He asked, voicing his thoughts aloud.

"Those bastards?" Arthur nodded. "Their moms are almost sisters so they've been best friends since birth. I live on their street. They, and some _teppista_ named Gilbert, always hang out at each other's houses. It's been that way since they were in the womb. That Spanish idiot has been speaking French since he was born. Their friendship disgusts me really. Too close for my liking."

Romano glared at the hand that was resting on the Spaniard's arse, as if trying to burn a hole through it.

"I've only known the frog for 4 years and I'm already ready to move out of the city. It must take a lot of patience to stick with all three of them your entire life. "

"That and the ability to block out all the retarded things these idiots say."

"Arthur!" Francis said brightly as the two came back into hearing range.

"This is Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. He'll train you from now on so you can have abs like Gil's. Just what Elizaveta wants."

"Hola! Nice to meet you!" The teen's eyes were ablaze with enthusiasm. They were overwhelming. He could understand why Romano had a crush on the teen.

"Nice to meet you as well." He replied tightly as his hand was almost ripped off in a brutal handshake.

"Don't kill him you brute! You can't mind your strength can you? Honestly, you're almost as bad as that Prussian idiot!"

"But you love me more than Gil, right Roma?"

"W-What? Get off me before I charge you for sexual harassment and eat your first born child!"

"Aww~! Romano!"

"I-Idiot! Shouldn't you be telling Eyebrows something?"

Eyebrows? Arthur scowled. He knew that the hairy logs above his eyes were rather large, but to point them out so bluntly was just offensive!

"That's right! Every morning at 6:00 AM I'll be here. We'll work on your fitness and you'll be eating breakfast with me. I'll help you manage your diet and ensure that you get the right amount of exercise. Tomorrow you'll come. We have to work fast si? Elizaveta will be very angry if she doesn't see some results by next week."

Arthur gaped at the tanned teen. The words _'Every morning at 6:00 AM'_ were still circling around his head. He had to wake up 7 to arrive at school by 7:30. So now he'd be waking up every day at 5:30? He was already reeling from the prospect of his new '_relationship problem that doesn't really exist_', now he would have to lose sleep too?

"Merci, mon ami. I owe you one."

"Do not worry about it. You're an old friend. It's only natural no?"

Francis smiled at Antonio and began to drag a depressed Arthur away.

"You have finally agreed to accept my help! Thank God! I thought I would have to drag you out of your house tomorrow, but you seem pretty compliant. Now, Arthur,"

"6:00 AM." The green eyed teen said monotonously. The taller of the two raised his brow curiously.

"Yes, the time that you're supposed to meet Antonio. What of it?"

With a cold spark in his eyes, Arthur glared at Francis. Bonnefoy cowered back in fear, squealing like a pig.

"I'm going to lose sleep you bloody wanker! I'll have to wake up at 5:00Am! 5:00AM! Do you have any idea how terrible that is? I'll be half dead in all of my classes!"

"H-Hey, there's no need to overreact."

Francis raised an arm to defend himself as Arthur advanced.

"Overreact? I'll show you overreacting you godd-."

"Oi! What are you two doing? Why are you sitting around?

A glimpse of silver turf-topped hair was spotted and, immediately, Arthur and Francis stood.

"Nothing Mr. Sasagawa sir!" They said in perfect chorus. Gray eyes glowered at the two.

"Alright. If you're doing nothing, then give me ten EXTREME laps around this gym! Now! Kick up those legs Kirkland!"

'I hate you,' Arthur mouthed to the Frenchman. The blonde only smirked.

Damn frog.

_'I will not curse in class. I will not curse in class. I will not-."_

"Oh, you're in here too Kirkland?"

Arthur looked up from his halfway full sheet to find Romano Vargas staring him down.

"Yeah."

Did he have detention? No, wait...He glanced over to the teacher's desk where Romano's bubbly twin, Feliciano, was speaking in rapid Italian to Mr. Vargas. Julius and the boy laughed and continued their conversation with snickers.

_'That's right,_' Arthur thought as realization comes over him. _'They're his grandkids.'_

Romano took a seat in the desk next to him and immediately joined their tables together, which surprised Arthur. From what he had heard, the twin didn't really enjoy communication with other people. Sudden friendliness was kind of suspicious.

"So how was your day?" Romano began casually, swiping up Arthur's paper and ripping it in half.

"Fine. Detention's a drag but it's not too bad."

It was only an eternal blemish on his permanent record that he cried about for fifteen minutes straight in the boy's bathroom. No biggie.

"I see. So about Antonio-."

Antonio? What did the Spaniard have to do with anything? Arthur was bewildered as Romano leant towards him menacingly, lips forming a snarl.

"Stay away from him and I won't hunt you down ten years later from now to kill you, Antonio, and the dirty blonde haired, blue eyed daughter you will adopt from some orphanage in New York after you guys finally get married and honeymoon in the Bahamas and-and-."

"What?"

Suddenly tear-stricken, the boy fell onto Arthur's shoulder.

"Take him away and I'll kill you for sure!"

Arthur raised a hand to comfort the boy, and then let it drop to his pocket as his phone vibrated. It was a text. From Francis of all people.

_'Enjoying detention Arthur? I bet you could have more fun if I were there ;) '_

The Brit rolled his eyes. He was going to close his phone out of pure disgust, but the next sentence caught his eye.

_'Pass your phone to the Italian kid that's threatening your (and Antonio's) baby boy.'_

The fact that Francis was extremely close to describing what Romano said alarmed Arthur. After glancing around for cameras, he tapped Romano on the shoulder, interrupting the other's speech filled with curses and his native language, and handed him the phone. The boy sniffled as his eyes run over the text twice. Slowly, he clambered off of Arthur.

"Oh. You're not after Antonio. You like that jackass kid. Uh, what does he want me to say?" Ambers squinted at the phone screen.

"L-Lo siento? Hell's demons! This bastard sent me Spanish!"

"Romano! Let him write!"

"He sent me Spanish! He made me speak in Spanish!"

"Veh~! Is it Big, Soon-to-Be Brother-In-Law Antonio?"

Arthur slowly backed away as the three gathered around his phone. He would have gotten away too, if it weren't for Romano's backpack tripping him.

"You still have time Kirkland." Mr. Vargas said, helping Arthur up and handing him his phone back. The Brit scowled, as did Romano.

"He needs to help me set something straight first."

"I gave him detention Romano. He needs to listen to me."

Arthur could feel the temperature in the room drop as Romano and the elder glared at each other.

_"Abbiamo tutti bisogno di ascoltare non lo facciamo? Perché siamo tutti servi solo in confronto a te ? "_

Arthur didn't understand what the freshman said, but he caught the heavy sarcasm lacing his voice. Before the teacher could say anything in return, Romano grabbed his backpack started towards the door.

"I'll make up the whole death threat thing to you Kirkland. I'll get it done by the end of December this year. I hate having debts from the old year passes onto the new so hurry up and figure out what you want before Christmas comes. "

With that, Romano walked out the door, slamming it shut behind him. Arthur was left with an aggravated teacher and a worried Romano. Finding his company unsettling, he chose the corner of the room farthest away from the Italians and completed his work.

The Kirkland household had never been a normal one. Sure enough, each member of the family was sane enough to be considered normal by society's standards (except Peter) but they surely didn't act as such in each other's presence. Each night was ended in either frantic screaming, laughter, or an unearthly silence. The only way Arthur knew how to tell how the night was going to end, was by reading everyone's facial expressions.

For example, take Holly Kirkland. Arthur's mother was a bubbly ball of joy. She was shorter than all of her boys (except Peter) and had a petite frame too. But her smile outgrew the lot of them. It reached her green eyes, and allowed them to light up with the amusement she felt whenever she laughed. Sometimes, it would reach the roots of her hair, making them appear darker and her crimson curls straighten.

She was wearing her famous smile as she met Arthur at the front door. Therefore, he could safely assume that there was a chance for a laughter-filled end of the night.

Next, he'd take a look at Draco, Arthur's eldest brother who recently came back from college in Scotland with a great accent painting over his British tongue. It was tough to get Draco Kirkland to smile. The closest he ever came to was a mocking sneer, and that only happened when he abused Arthur. Although, his scoff suited his rugged features well. The curl of his lips as he stroked his ruby red stubble was appealing.

He wasn't sneering then. His mouth formed a gentle smile as he lounged on the couch, a small tiger cub in his hands. He chuckled lowly as the cub, which went by the name of Taikos, snapped a piece of meat out of his hands. Like his mother, his smile affected his eyes and dissolved their usual cold leer, introducing a more tranquil look.

His hair, a dark scarlet, fell over his right ear, the one that Arthur knows had been pierced for the tenth time earlier that day. Holly couldn't see it; that's why the mother still smiled as she swept the floor.

The sophomore avoided his brother like the plague and tiptoed up the stairs. If Draco saw him, the gentle grin he adorned would rapidly morph into his usual ridiculing smirk.

Now acknowledge Arthur's second oldest brother, Mac, who was bounding down the steps, Chriam the cheetah cub running after him.

"Hullo Arthur! 'Ow was school?" He asked in a thick Irish accent. His ginger hair had been cut recently so his untamable spikes were gone. Mac always wore a grin, perhaps not on his lips, but in his dark pine tree eyes. Admittedly, they weren't as joyful since his twin sister, Macy, was still attending high school in Northern Ireland, but they still managed to be as happy as possible. His joy amazed Arthur. He expected his brother's stressing goal of achieving a masters in medical school to wear him down. But Mac never complained once. He was a good lad, and always preppy.

Arthur only wished this amount of prep didn't transfer to shocking enthusiasm towards destroying most of his things.

"It was interesting." Mac was one of the two siblings he felt confident in confiding in. He was the only one who can outrun Draco after all.

"Great! Valor's in your room! It'd be best if you'd run on up there before he tears up the 'ntire place with Peter."

Peter? That definitely wasn't good. Arthur gave Mac his thanks and continued on his way, only stopping in hallway of bedrooms to say hello to Jon, his adoptive brother from Wales. The other sibling he could trust.

"Good Afternoon Brother."

"Hmm?" Tousled hair draped over one baby blue eye as Jon looked up, cascading in short silky wefts of a blonde-brown mix. He stopped playing with his Maine Coon cats as he smiled.

"Good Afternoon Arthur. How was your day?" He asked. His voice was soft and melodic. It was always a pleasure to hear after a long, tiring day.

"All good and well. Francis has been meddling in my affairs again though."

"I see…Do not fret. It will all come to pass. I am sure of it.

"Yes. I think so too." Arthur returned Jon's beam and crossed the hall to enter his own room. All three of his brothers and his mum had been smiling so far. Things were looking bright.

At least until Arthur opened his door. Then things started to wobble and crash into a pit of fire, turning his house into a mad house of burning lunatics.

"PETER!"

Cerulean orbs glanced up at a fuming British boy curiously, and then dread overtook them.

"A-Artie!" The eight grader gasped, shifting his lithe body to hide whatever he was doing behind his thin frame. Short blonde hair stood on end and Peter's bushy eyebrows went with it.

"What are you doing in my room you git?"

"I-I…I kind of, sort of wanted to play with Valor and then I kind of, sort of misplaced him when we were playing chase?"

"You _what?_" Arthur screamed. An angry red fills his face as he stepped towards his cousin, raising a threatening finger.

Valor was scheduled to go back to the exotic zoo in Europe at the end of the year! They couldn't misplace him now! Not when he finally made his 3rd year! What if he got hurt while they weren't around to watch him? The lawsuits were too mortifying to even think about!

Peter looked regretful and bounced from foot to foot.

"I lost him." Peter said bluntly as he began to inch toward the door. "So, um, I'll just be leaving now…"

"Oh no you will not!"

Arthur's eyes scanned his room. No wonder Peter couldn't find the lion cub. His room was a total mess! CDs and vinyl records were scattered on the floor. His sheets and clothes were shoved on top of all surfaces. And his precious books were in disarray. Arthur spluttered as he spied his Harry Potter collection. Scowling, he marched over to his bookshelf and put the '_Order of the Phoenix'_ before the _'Half Blood Prince'_.

"Sirius dies before Dumbledore damn it!"

"When does Rumbleroar die?"

"For the 50th time Peter! _A Very Potter Musical_ isn't the actual _Harry Potter_ series! Now help me _clean this up!"_

With a joint effort, they managed to clear the area right before dinner. They found Valor in the process. Apparently, he had been hiding under the pillow that managed to enter his closet.

Arthur sighed as he looked over his room once more. He already sent Peter away ("Go play with your ant farm or something!") and had some time to himself and to his #1 responsibility.

Amber eyes looked up at him seriously, a slight twitch around his muzzle. Valor was being bounced on Arthur's knee, a good distance away from the boy's torso.

The Lion Cub was a gift (Or a curse really. It depends on how you wish to look at it.) from his mother for his last birthday. Holly Kirkland was a famous veterinarian, well known even in the slums of Europe, so she was frequently called upon to care for more… outrageous animals that were harder to maintain due to some physical disability or personality disorder.

Holly used to go out to Europe to moderate such situations, but then she formed a family and refused to set foot out of her household's country ever again. She had the animals shipped out to her when they were infants and assisted them in growing out of their problems. She formed a little animal hospital ten minutes away from the house so she could work close to home, lest there be some type of emergency. But the hospital was almost always filled with patients. Of course, since sew had fully grown, trustworthy (for the most part) men in her household, it was only natural that they assisted her.

And so began the tradition of keeping some type of foreign animal with you when you were a member of the Kirkland family. They took care of infant members of the cat family, due to a feline's ability to be more tranquil. Since the animals were kids, their bites couldn't kill as of yet.

But Arthur's little lion was maturing, and fast.

'_His jaws are large enough to bite of my foot.' _Arthur admired, almost sadly. Valor was approaching his teen years, which meant he was to serve as a threat to the safety of the family sometime soon. He would have to go.

His breathing problem had been cured mere months before. There was no longer any reason for Arthur to keep him. He most certainly wasn't a pet after all.

But, Arthur still felt some attachment. Valor was the first relatively dangerous animal his mother allowed him to care for after all. It was only two years ago that he was caring for ant farms like Peter did and doing mild jobs wild the normally domesticated animals around the animal hospital.

"I'm going to miss you bravery." Arthur sighs, ruffling the lion's soft hair. As if understanding, the lion nuzzles back, then snaps at Arthur's fingers. Arthur pulls back at the right time of course. He had such reflexes since birth. (Living in the same house as Draco ensured that one would learn how to run fast and dodge quickly.)

"Bloody hell! You've already got your carnivorous instincts. How much time have you been spending with Draco?"

He was about to give the animal to sternest talking of a lifetime when his mother's voice rang out, calling him downstairs for dinner.

The Kirkland dinner arrangement never failed anyone of those present at the table. From haggis to scones to boxty, everyone's tastes were usually catered to. The array tasted lovely too, seeing as Holly was the only Kirkland who could cook. Draco had brought Taikos to the table with him, occasionally throwing the sheep's pluck from his haggis to the floor and watching as Taikos jumped to rip it to shreds.

"He's grown the little brute. His hind legs are bouncing up and down like basketballs."

"Mmm-hmm. We'll have to send him back with Valor."

Holly's statement brought everyone's eyes to Arthur, who sunk in his chair and attempted to eat his brussel sprouts in peace.

"So how was school ickle, wittle Artie?"

Oh no. Draco was mocking him again. This wouldn't end well.

"It was fine. I was amused."

"By what?"

Arthur ignored the kick that is passed to him under the table as he answered Mac's question.

"Francis."

"Aww, Artie has a crush on a boy. They grow up so fast don't they Mum?"

'_That doesn't look like just friends to me mon ami.'_

Arthur stiffened, and then relaxed as soon as possible to try and hide it, but it was too late. Draco already noticed his twitch.

"No way! He actually has a crush on a boy!"

"You bloody wanker! I do not!"

The red head's legendary smirk appeared on his face as Draco reveled in his brother's blush.

"I think you do but you don't want to tell your Mother and favorite older brother."

Holly looks worried as Arthur's complexion turned darker.

"Is there something you need to tell me darling? We can talk in private if you want."

Draco snickered.

"Yeah Artie. Tell Mummy and Draco what's wrong?" Arthur's shin slammed into his chair leg. Hard.

"Shut up Draco." Arthur said cooly, kicking Draco right back. Dark green eyes twitched in annoyance.

"So much sass. Respect your elders boy. Especially you favorite bro-."

"You are not my favorite brother Draco! Quit acting like you're the fruckin' Queen of England you git!"

"Maybe I will when you quit your bullocks!" Draco shouts back. Peter shriveled away from the scarlet haired man and leant into Jon. Mac watched the entire performance go on with a grin on his face. Entertainment accompanied with his dinner was always so very entertaining.

"What bollocks?" Arthur exclaimed, kicking his brother in the shin. Draco snarled and shoved him right back, sending a few slices of ham flying. The animals in the kitchen quickly picked up the scraps, chewing contentedly as they watched the boys go at it.

"Quit the act already you little bugger! You know well what I'm talkin' about!" Draco's eyes were ablaze as he said this. His mouth was set in an angry scowl. Arthur replied with just as much vigor, if not more.

"No! I honestly do not!"

"Boys!" Holly's voice was shrill as she interrupts the two, making everyone (both animal and human) wince. Somehow, Arthur and Draco managed to stand up and start spitting venom in each other's faces in the middle of their feud. Draco sat, still frowning.

"You come home and ya' say hello to everyone but your eldest brother and you 'xpect me not to be pissed off at you?"

Arthur was awestruck by his brother's glare. He just got kicked and yelled at because...he refused to say hello? He had never heard anything so preposterous in his life!

"You sensitive little fuck. You're joking."

"Arthur Kirkland!"

The red head ignored their mother's exclaim and continued, a smirk on his face.

"No joke. It is really rude to enter the household without greeting the man of the house after all."

Arthur turns a deep scarlet again as he catches Draco's words. The red head has the gull to smirk at him after-! After-!

"You are not even half the man Dad was." His voice was composed of pure ice and malice, and his eyes coated with a mocking expression to shield his outrage. The scarlet haired man was quick to get up and swing toward his head. He ducked under Draco's flying fist, grabbed his plate and fork, and stormed out of the dining room, allowing his irises to show hurt and disbelief they protected moments ago.

The git! Fucking bloody-! Ugh! Arthur let a stream of curses get thrown into the air as he locked his bedroom door behind him.

"So much for a good day..." he groans.

He looked right into the amber eyes of Valor, who innocently held up a piece of roasted lamb.

"My brother's a total idiot who thinks he's in command when he really isn't. He's nothing but a cocky little bleeder that wants to take over my father's position right brave one?"

Arthur stroked Valor's fur for a few minutes, deep in thought.

Draco enjoyed believing himself the man of the house. He even went as far as to proclaim himself the 'Father' of the family. Arthur was ten years old when his father died. But all memories of the man were sweet, even when he was lying on his death bed. Draco was dishonoring all of that. It was this that he could not forgive.

That's why he refused to remove his headphones from his head as his mother knocked on his door. Draco and Mac (the traitor) attempted to break down the door but Arthur made sure that all of his furniture were as sturdy as stones and piled in front of it.

He couldn't worry about his brothers now.

He finished the last of his dinner just as the stray notes of _Sassafras Roots_ faded away. Placing his plate on his dresser away, he contemplated his latest 'problem', Alfred,

Was Francis right? Did he really need to follow the current punk trends to get his best friend back? Arthur's eyes set on the city lights outside his window.

He supposed he would find this out tomorrow.

-**S**_S_C**_O_T**_Y_-

Well, there's the first (huge) chapter of Sophomore Slump. I'll be updating much more frequently in the summer after finals. I'm praying for one chapter every Friday/Saturday of the week. I may upload the second chapter before June, but that depends on whether or not I'm not such a nervous wreck about this little fanfic. *puts way too much emotional/physical investment in this story* Quick question. Do you prefer long or short chapters? I'm not really sure whether I should cut everything up into 5k chapters or leave it in bulk like some Harry Potter chapter. You could vote in my poll, or leave a review stating your answer. Critiques are (almost) as awesome as Prussia. Even the ones that point out my grammar mistakes.

**Translations**

**French**

**Mon chere**- _My dear_ **Mon ami**- _My friend_

**La jalousie tis**- _Tis jealousy_ **Oui**- _Yes_

**Sacrebleu**-_Damn_ **Monsieu**r-_My_

**cousine**-_Cousin_ **Bonjour**_-Hello_

**Continuer a essayer**-_Keep trying_ **Affirmative**-_Yes_

**Merci**-_Thank You _**  
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**Italian**

**Teppista**-_hoodlum, punk,thug, bully_

**Abbiamo tutti bisogno di ascoltare non lo facciamo? Perché siamo tutti servi solo in confronto a te ? **

_We all need to listen to you don't we? Because we're all just servants compared to you huh ?_

**Spanish**

**Mi amigo**_-My friend _**Que tal?**-_How are you?_

**Bien. Gracias.**-_Fine/Great. Thank You. _**Y tu?**-And you?

**Asi Asi**-Okay/So-so **Si**-_Yes/Yeah_

**Lo siento**-_Sorry_


	3. 2: We're Only Liars But We're The Best

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers, My Chemical Romance, All Time Low, or any of the used songs in this chapter.

_**Chapter 2: We're Only Liars, But We're The Best**_

"Wake up Monsieur~."

Arthur Kirkland awoke at some ungodly hour in the morning to find someone bouncing on his legs. A wide grin was on the intruder's face as he pulled out handcuffs, dragged Arthur's feet out of bed and chained his ankles together. Panic flooded his mind as he kicked and yelled. Had some weird stranger invaded his room for sexual assault? If so, how were his brothers? His mother? What was to become of him?

Then dark, alluring blue eyes and flouncy, blonde locks appeared in his line of vision.

He then realized that Francis was the one in his bed. His mild panic turned into a full, blown-out fear and he screamed in terror.

"No! **Do. Not. Want**! Get away from me!" He jumped up, twisting as if to run, but tripped over the chains.

"Monsieur! Stop struggling! You'll make things difficult!"

The two grappled. Francis held Arthurs feet down while the Brit clawed at the other's head with his nails. To make things worse, Draco burst through Arthur's doorway with a baseball bat, eying the scene before him with a glare.

Then he laughed. _**Laughed. **_ And walked back out.

"You wanker!" Arthur shouted after him, stopping his attack. Francis used this chance to grab the Brit's arms and shove him to the floor.

"The hell? Why the fruk are you here?"

"You have an appointment with Antonio at 6! It's 5:30 and it takes half an hour to walk to the school! You are late!"

Arthur groaned and escaped Francis' grip. After he convinced the other to release his ankles, he grabbed a towel from his closet, and shuffled into his bathroom, pushing the Frenchman away so he could lock the door.("But mon ami!" "No Francis. Just, no.")

Five minutes later, Arthur was pulling on his black and green sweater vest.

"We must run! Romano's going to kill us if we're late!"

"Why would he kill us? We're going to meet Antonio."

"Antonio said that if Romano helped us train you, he would let him eat all the churros and tomatoes he wanted at our breakfast meetings."

"And?"

"Remember what Romano said to you yesterday? About your and Antonio's child?"

"Yeah...?"

"He's really possessive when it comes to Antonio and the things his hands make."

"And?"

"You shall see with your own eyes when we get there non?"

They ran out the door only after Arthur flipped Draco off.

"We're late! We're late! If the food gets cold, Romano will have our heads!" Francis exclaimed, stuffing his pocket-watch back in his jacket.

"I still don't see why we need to be so early." Arthur grumbled. Blue eyes simply gave him a long look.

"Wait! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing? Francis! You damn wanker! I'll get my attorney all over your arse!"

"_Ferme ta gueule_!" ("Shut the hell up!")

"We're late Arthur. I refuse to let you down until we reach the school."

"You're going to carry me there! Hell no! Wait!"

But his outbursts were useless. Swearing and squirming, the blonde was carried all the way to the gym doors. With an extremely venomous glare sent Francis' way, he opened the door.

"You bastards are late!" Romano shouted as they walked in. As Arthur looked around for the Spaniard, he caught whiff of a succulent aroma, unconsciously taking a step towards it.

Now, no one in the Kirkland family except for Holly could really cook. Since Arthur's mother spent most of her evenings in the vet hospital, his brothers and he were the ones to cook most of the time. This didn't end very well **all **of the time.

So when Arthur's emerald eyes beheld a smoking hot feast of Spanish and Italian breakfast foods before him, he had to resist the urge to drool. He reaches out for a soft-looking tanned stick, only to get his hand slapped.

Scowling, Romano roughly shoved Arthur away from the banquet.

"No food until after you exercise. If you eat before running, you'll vomit idiot. And I won't be the one to clean that up."

Arthur glanced at the food longingly, and then glared at the brunette.

"That's no reason to slap my hand!"

"Would you rather I be like that French bastardo over there and slap your ass?"

Arthur cowered back. Not because Romano looked intimidating in his black hoodie. Definitely not because the others ripped, black jeans made him look like an undercover member of the mafia. Certainly not.

"Arthur? Que Tal?"

"I'm fine." Arthur hoped that this is the correct answer to the Spanish question as Antonio approached. He was in white soccer shorts and a loose blue t-shirt. The teen noted the red and yellow track shoes with a grin. Then he realized that he didn't bring any clothing suitable for physical exertion. He feels ashamed as Antonio looked him over questioningly.

But Francis quickly jumped in on his behalf, holding up a black t-shirt and white shorts with a pair of Adidas.

"Aren't you going to change mon ami?"

Arthur snatched the clothing from Francis, escaping to the boys' bathroom.

"Wow .You really are skinny. Is that natural or do have something you're not telling us?"

"You little-!"

The Frenchman tittered, wagging his finger back and forth.

"I basically just saved you from embarrassment. I suggest you don't complain. I can always take back my services mon ami. You can always be Alfred's 2nd best friend."

Arthur straightened at this.

"Why are you helping me anyway? You're supposed to be one of my worst enemies."

"Aww. You wound me."

"Don't act as if it isn't true." He said sternly, turning to face Francis with a scowl. The Frenchman held his hands up in surrender and the two fell silent. Arthur brought his stuff into a stall and finished changing in there.

"I'm only doing this because of my adoration for l'amour! It's annoying to see you pining after Alfred all the time, when you can easily grab him yourself." Francis said.

Arthur paused, sneakers half onto his feet. There was no point in objecting. The blonde had a way with twisting words around. It was one of the frog's numerous useless talents.

"I-I see." he stuttered. He unlocked the metal bathroom stall door and stepped out to find Francis looking to the sky outside the window with a wistful expression.

"Oh love. It makes us perform such stupid antics, but we'll enjoy every second of them.

Arthur almost doesn't want to make Francis move, so he just shuffled past. Thankfully, Francis scoffed (at the way he himself was acting or at something else?) and stepped away from the window, elegantly ruffling Arthur's hair on the way out of the bathroom.

"So, we'll start by stretching." Antonio said enthusiastically when Arthur reached the center of the gymnasium.

"Just do your normal stretches and I'll fix your form when necessary."

Arthur did as he was told. He bent over to touch his toes, only to get his back stepped on so he would lunge forward and have his hands hit the floor.

"_Argh_!" Arthur exclaimed as the back of his legs burned. The foot didn't move until Antonio counted till 20.

"You need to be really flexible comprende? You will try harder than that right?"

Arthur grumbled and continued with his task, sitting on the floor and pulling his right leg in towards him. His left leg was extended all the way out, and he reached for it. Yet again, Antonio's foot came down on his back.

"Ack!"

"I knew that black was a good choice. The blood stains won't show." Francis murmured as he watched his frenemy get stepped on. The Frenchman grinned as Arthur attempted a different pose and Antonio kicked him in the rib to get him in place. Even Romano laughed as Arthur got shoved around. The Italian had been at the end of those kicks and stomps numerous times before. At the time, it was hell. But watching someone else get the full end of it amused him.

Eventually, Arthur stopped stretching and was forced to do sit-ups. 50 sit-ups.

"Romano! Could you please hold my feet down? I want to join Arthur!"

"Why don't you use the French bastard?" The boy complained. He went anyway, to Antonio's absolute glee. Francis attempted to hold Arthur's feet down. But the blonde remembered that morning very clearly. He screamed bloody murder as he recognized the glint Francis had in his eye.

"Come on Arthur! I won't bite!"

"Yes you will! And you'll probably leave marks! Sweet Jesus! Get away from me!"

Arthur used Antonio and Romano as a barrier and set the toes of his feet under the Spanish man's back.

"Alright amigo! 50 sit ups! Let's go!"

Arthur hastily began, stomach burning when he reached 5. Antonio seemed to do it with ease in a minute and shifted to hold Arthur's feet down.

"You tired already Arthur?" He asked, hiding a grin as Arthur began to turn red from exertion.

"No!" The teen spluttered indignantly. Stupid smug Spanish wanker! With a new vigor, he continued. In six minutes he finished, a long time for fifty but it was better than his usual record. Antonio beamed at him.

"Great! Now, let's move on to push-ups," Arthur had to bite back the urge to groan. Was Alfred really worth all of this?

_Yeah. And probably a lot more._

Arthur stoutly dropped to the floor. He gave Antonio a heated, determined stare from underneath his bangs.

"How many pushups?"

"20. With Romano sitting on your back."

The Italian plopped down on the blonde's spine, munching on a churro.

"Let's go bastard! I don't have an entire day to waste in this gym! And I want to finish my tortilla before I go to Home Ec!"'

"You look like a bloody girl, but you're almost as heavy as Alfred!"

"What did you say you-?"

"H-Hey Lovi! He didn't mean it! Si, Arthur?"

"Why are you defending him you jerk?"

Romano jumped off of Arthur with a huff and stormed over to the breakfast set up, causing the Spaniard to sigh.

"Finish your pushups then we'll run laps." He said before sprinting after the Italian.

"Ah~. young love."

Antonio appeared to be pleading with Lovino, who looked away with a blush. Romano muttered something, which in turn made the Spaniard throw both his arms around him.

"I bet you wish you could do that with Alfred."

"Oh please Francis. I'm only doing this so we remain best friends."

The mocking boy nodded, grin showing he really didn't believe that statement.

"Of course. Now," Francis sat down on Arthur's back.

"Finish those pushups."

"The fact that you weigh as much as my short, skinny mother is kind of alarming. Are you okay? Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Spare me the hypocrisy Arthur. I saw the way you avoided your salad during lunch yesterday."

Arthur scowled, giving up on his attempt to embarrass Francis and begrudgingly completed his pushups. Antonio and Romano came back in time to run laps. After much pleading, the Italian agreed to run with them but gave up after the first lap. Arthur was forced to go through 10 laps of torture. Antonio ran with him easily while the other two snickered at his misfortune.

Francis threw Arthur a towel as soon as it was announced that they were done. The Brit, reeking of sweat, limped to the showers. Oooh, was that his shoulder that cracked? He probably had to get that checked. Wincing, he stepped into the shower, biting back a groan of displeasure as cold water ran down his back. Arthur scowled for the fifteenth time that day as he began to dress...only to find that his normal clothes weren't there.

"Oh _bugger._" He muttered as he held up what the Frenchman left.

Black jeans. He hadn't worn jeans since the seventh grade. He always preferred his comfortable slacks or even cargo pants if he really wanted to dress casually. The short sleeve button down wasn't too much of a drastic change from his usual apparel. But the jeans…

No matter how much he disliked it, he had to wear the atrocity. He had nothing else to wear but a towel. And he was not going to wear that if he knew that Francis was nearby. Swallowing his pride, he hastily threw the clothing on.

What didn't kill him would make him stronger.

~S.S.C.O.T.Y~

"What the hell happened to my clothes Francis?"

The three were already eating.. The blonde looked up from his French toast, amusement lighting up his eyes. Arthur saw the beginning of a sneer pulling at the edges of his lips.

"Elizaveta has them. She'll give them back when she's done _'editing'_ them. She wants you to wear these." Francis held out his pair of black sneakers which Arthur quickly backed away from.

"What? Is even this too drastic for you? This isn't even half of what she's going to give you later you know."

"They're improper!"

"They are sneakers. Very modest. She has your shoes too so, unless you wish to walk around barefoot, you must wear these."

Francis tossed the sneakers at Arthur, who glared.

"No! I just wore those to run!"

"Ne soit pas egoiste! Just wear the shoes!"

He pulled them on only when the blonde raised his voice. Not because he was intimidated. He was never intimidated.

"So?"

"They're...," Arthur paused, searching for a word that wouldn't stroke Francis' ego. "Comfortable."

Apparently, this was enough to give the teen a boost, for he laughed proudly and took another bite out of his breakfast. Arthur now joined them at the table and reached for churros. But Lovino snatched the basket and the platter with sliced tomatoes, glaring at anyone that dared to eye them. The only dish left on the table was a tortilla surrounded by various breakfast meats and vegetables (There was French bread, but he would rather die than eat that shit.) Arthur took the tortilla and filled it with what he desired, and cautiously bit out of it, hoping it wouldn't spontaneously combust like his last concoction in his kitchen.

It wasn't too bad. Yes, he still preferred his normal, proper English breakfast, but it would be rude of him to ignore the dishes Antonio (and Romano apparently) worked hard to set out. Arthur took another bite, catching lettuce as it fell. No, it wasn't bad at all.

"Romano helped me make the tortilla. Do you like it?"

"H-Hey!"

"It's good." The Brit said. Romano met his eyes, blushing like a school girl, and Arthur attempted to give him a friendly grin. The Italian quickly shoved a churro in his mouth and looked away to avoid further eye contact.

Antonio laughed.

"You're so cute when you're embarrassed."

"I'm not embarrassed damn it!"

"Then why is your face so red?"

"I-!"

"We have Home Economics to get to!" Arthur exclaimed. He jumped up with Francis. Romano, face drained of all color, got up with them.

"I've got a class too! Shit! Help us clean this up before Sasagawa arrives!" They cleared the table that they used with haste. Lovino snuck a few churros into his knapsack while the Spaniard openly carried a loaf of French bread into the hallway. Francis was discreet with his buttered slice of toast and Arthur kept his mug of tea hidden within his comrade's backpack.

They got quite a few stares but, with the proper explanation, they were quickly written off as students who simply didn't get to finish breakfast at home.

"Wait a second, why are you going with us to Home Economics? You're a freshman."

Romano frowned, turning away.

"I don't feel the need to tell you."

"He's supposed to have his advanced class tomorrow, but it was cancelled. He's actually quite amazing when it comes to cooking. He and his brother can really bake. You should try their chocolate chip cookies. They're much better than your burnt up scones anyway," Francis piped.

"Bastard! My scones are…aren't considered a safety hazard."

"Yet."

"Never mind that! Is there any such thing as Advanced Home Economics?"

"Well Romano's taking it isn't he?"

"Fuck it. I _made_ Advanced Home Ec."

Antonio ignored the two as they argued, wrapping his free arm around the Italian's waist.

"Lovi~, can you make me some cookies when we get home? I'll have my Madre make you some more churros."

Romano was quick to maneuver his way out of Antonio's hold.

"Fine. I'll only make one tray in exchange for 20 churros though."

"Thank you Lovi!"

The freshman was enthusiastically hugged before the Spaniard ran down the hall to get to his own class. Romano, a bright red, turned to find Francis staring at him with a knowing smirk. Arthur kept his gaze to the floor, feigning disinterest.

"W-What?" The Italian stuttered indignantly. The blue eyed blonde raised an elegant eyebrow.

"It appears that Arthur isn't the only one with a crush."

Both sandy blonde and dark brunette glared the teen down, shouting,

"I do not have a crush!"

Still in perfect harmony, the two sped away from the male that insisted on speaking nonsense. Romano muttered in Italian while Arthur cast a hex under his breath.

Francis watched the two of them with a smile on his face. He took his time in catching up, not really anxious to get to class. He already missed homeroom. And H.E was a bore.

They really were alike. Romano and Arthur that is. Both were terrible when it came to relationships and emotions, but were as loyal as golden retrievers when they met someone they could trust. It was only natural for Francis to repay this loyalty by helping both of their love lives.

Lord knows that they would need it.

"Oi! Francis!"

"You'd better run if you want to get to class you bastard."

Oh, how much fun he could have meddling with their emotions!

After making a quick stop at the office, where Romano conjured some riveting tale about the three of them getting caught up by some thugs, they received their tardy slips and fell into class without too much of a hitch.

Home Economics was definitely one of Arthur's worst classes. It was partly due to the fact that he was a terrible cook that burnt everything he laid his hands on, and mostly because of his teacher, Ms. Bianchi

Arthur had no idea why she was chosen to teach their class how to cook when she couldn't even boil water. (A skill Arthur picked up in the summer of 8th grade) He hardly paid her any heed and went by what the recipe book told him, afraid that her directives would make his culinary skills worse.

But Romano payed rapt attention to the lesson, laughing whenever he saw fit. When his 5th snicker cut into the classroom air, chalk began to grind and break.

The two flew into Italian, screaming rapidly. Francis laughed when Bianchi flicked a piece of cake batter in Romano's face. Romano, with the vigor of a demon, threw some batter right back. And so the food fight of Home Economics began, batter jumped and Italian words burnt down self-confidences like a flame.

At the end of that 45 minute period, the Italian boy was smiling proudly as he was sent to the office for misconduct.

"He's carried a grudge against since the 4th grade. He does his best to ruin her days."

"What did she do?"

Francis only shrugged.

Unlike their previous class, Math went as any other lesson should have gone. Their teacher, Mr. Mephisto, walked around the front of the room, scrawling problems on the blackboard as Arthur, Roderich, Vash and a few other honor roll students gave him their un-divided interest.

In the back of the classroom, however, 4 students were discussing the fate of a grouchy teenager.

A blonde Frenchman quickly wrote something on an index card, folded it up and threw it to the girl sitting next to him. Her green eyes were facing the front, but she still caught the note. She only needed to glance down once to make out the loopy script and write out her reply on the back. She feigned a heavy yawn, raising both hands over her head, then opened her right palm, letting the index card fall onto the desk of the tanned athlete behind her. He was trying to get results of the latest soccer match on his I-phone before the paper fluttered over the screen. The Latino opened it up, read the message and wrote his reply on the back. Carelessly, he flipped the paper to the albino next to him, who was also trying to get the results of the match on the athlete's phone. He didn't even bother to read the note. He wrote a few words and shoved the index card back onto the desk of the Frenchman in front of him.

_'So what do you guys think of Arthur so far? What are we going to do with him?'-F.B_

_'He has a pretty face. I don't see pretty boys willing to go punk to often in school. He'll be a great fashion experience and challenge. I can't wait till Friday!_' -Lizzy

'**So weak! So skinny! He's like 10 year old Romano! Just a little less cute! I suggest we make him go organic. Protein shakes would help too.'**-Antonio

'F this shit. I is awzome.' –Your Mom

White flashed as Francis beamed. He pulled out another index card and wrote another statement.

_'I need to talk to all of you together at lunch. You can drag over whoever you wish, as long as we can discuss as a group. Thanks for helping.'_

_'Alright. Roderich's coming then. (Suck it Prussian) And no problem! Arthur's a fashion puzzle I've been dying to solve. I just never got to ask him. I should be thanking you Franny.'_-Lizzy

**'OK, I'll see whether Romano wants to come...Helping isn't a problem! We're amigos, si? Amigos always help each other out.'** -Antony

'U and ur bf can suck mine biatch. F this shiz and that stingy Brit. Teh only reazon the grt me is helping him iz 'cause I'm bored. Mattie's cuming.'-Elizaveta SUCKS

Elizaveta didn't let it show, but she was ecstatic as she kept her eyes straight ahead. Antonio smiled briefly, and then went back to looking at scores. The Prussian gave him a thumbs up, then stuck his tongue out at the girl peevishly, and patted his Franny on the back.

Ah, it was great to have friends. Francis slyly looked up at Arthur. Soon the Brit would also know the joy of having a group of comrades, instead of one best friend that did nothing but confuse him.

Arthur was once again bombarded by people at his lunch table. Lizzy and Gil were glaring daggers at each other, holding their respective boyfriends protectively. Matt was as red as the tomato Antonio was wagging in front of Romano. Roderich adorned a pale pink when he saw the Hungarian's arms around his chest. When an argument burst out, the Brit scowled. They were _**loud.**_ Loud enough to drown out Romano's constant cursing.

He covered his ears with his hands and only when he began to pray for silence did Francis call the meeting to order.

"Mes amis! We must discuss Arthur's dilemna! Matthieu, I know this topic disturbs you a bit. As long as you don't tell Alfred about this, you should be fine. "

Matthew nodded, still a dark red. All attention was now focused on the blonde as he continued his speech.

"So you're all going to help Arthur with his 'makeover'. Elizaveta is in charge of clothing and make up. Antonio has agreed to assist him with his diet and overall fitness. Gilbert is handling piercing, tattoos and attitude while I point him in the right direction for his relationship. Clear?"

"I never agreed to help him with any attitude! He's already a prissy bitch! I can't make it any-."

"You. Will. Help. Him. Or should I tell a certain someone about your little collection of-."

Gilbert was quick to cut Francis off, looking from his curious Canadian to the smirking Frenchman.

"No! No! I'll help him. Mein Gott Franny!"

"Well, I suppose we should all come to a mutual decision on what we'll do with him. Elizaveta, you're basically the one in charge of this project. What do you recommend?"

The girl straightened, pulling two sheets of paper out of her back pack. She placed one on the table. As soon as the Brit looked it over, he cringed.

"_All Time Low? _Is that the name of the band? Why is his hair so long? Why did he dye it blonde? And why _the hell_ are they only in briefs?"

"This is what our end result will be. Not as extreme though and you will be wearing clothes. I'm using Alex and the boys as an example for how toned I want Antonio to make you. "

"Bee-yotch please. You just wanted to ogle at Jack Barakat shirtless."

"…Shut up Gil. As for what you'll look like with clothes on-."

She placed down the second sheet.

"This is it. I may make you look slightly more intense though. Like with piercings and tattoos, if you're not afraid of needles."

Gilbert snorted at this. Tilting his chair back, he said,

"I don't think I can even get him a tattoo. He's probably planning to have some sensible job when he gets out of college. Tattoos will ruin his future."

"Actually, I'm going to be a freelance writer or a journalist. They're allowed to have tattoos."

Surprised at the blonde's quick agreement, all turned to stare.

"I-It's not like I'm a-afraid of needles or something! Piercings I will have a problem with but-I don't know- I suppose getting a tattoo will be an interesting experience to write about."

Francis beamed at his friend as the albino begrudgingly nodded."Fine. I'll take him to Kat's in a week or two."

"Si. He's already pretty slim so I won't have to change him too much."

Francis sighed, satisfied that everyone is on somewhat of a decent plan. Whether or not Arthur would be compliant was questionable though. He cast a sideways glance at the other boy. The Brit didn't have that wretched scowl on his face and grinned whenever Gilbert and Elizaveta got into a feud over something idiotic. He was warming up to them.

"Now, let's arrange schedules. Elizaveta, tomorrow is Friday. Are we still going shopping after school?"

The brunette shoved Gilbert's face into his salad and smiled at the blonde innocently.

"Yes. We are definitely still going clothes hunting. I have a list of shops prepared and everything."

"Will money be a problem?" Francis prodded. The Hungarian shook her head, her smile turning forced.

"No. O-Of course not!"

"Where will you be getting your funds?"

"…...I have the right to remain silent."

"_Okay_ then, we've already got an every morning schedule Antonio."

"Si."

"Wait," Gil cut in. "I'm going to need him in the morning on Saturdays."

"Move it to Sunday. I get to introduce to the commercial side of punk on Fridays so he'll be out late. If he has to get up early for Antonio, then he definitely won't have the energy to control you."

"Shut it! I need him on Saturdays and that's final."

"How about you take your _'Shut It' _and shove it up your as-."

"Lizzy still gets me on Fridays, but I don't stay out past 10. Antonio can still get me in the mornings. He keeps me until around 9 on Saturdays. Then I'll just run up to the roof at noon to meet with Gilbert."

Inwardly, the Frenchman applauded Arthur for such a decision.

"I agree with you Arthur..." Elizaveta said slowly. "But what will you do from 9 to 12?"

"I'm gonna teach him how to skateboard, rebel, and listen to some damn good music." Romano stated loudly.

"Fine. We'll go with that."

"Aw. Romano wants to help after all!"

"Shut up _Mom."_

"Make me _midget_."

"You two really shouldn't fight-. Lovino!" The Italian finally managed to grab the tomato while Antonio responded. He smirked as he released the Spaniard's fingers from his teeth, tomato successfully lodged in his jaws.

"Congratulations Romano! You finally got it!"

The table now focusing on Antonio and the freshman, Francis swooped for his chance.

"You are completely okay with this, right mon ami?" He directed this question toward Arthur, who just shrugged.

"I don't want to lose my best friend so easily. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I enjoy your company or anything. But your way is the only way I see me getting my best mate back."

"I see." Francis smiled. Arthur was such a liar. He could see the humor in his eyes as he looked over at Romano and Anthony.

But Alfred. He leered over to the popular table where the athlete was munching on fries and laughing with Tino. Gilbert noticed his friend's face, where he was looking, and also glared. The popular kids. He always hated each of them with every fiber of his being. Especially Alfred. Ugh, he didn't even deserve hate from someone as awesome as Gilbert! Poor little Mattie, always being mistaken for his brother and having to hide in his shadow.

Gilbert gripped his favorite blonde's hand. Then he caught Francis' gaze. The Frenchman looked at Arthur, blinked once, nodded twice, and brought his stare back to the Prussian.

Only Gilbert and Antonio could understand this series of twitches. It was their secret code. The one they created all the way back in third grade. Although the words that they managed to remember were simple, it still helped when they didn't want someone to hear their conversations.

What Francis was saying was 'Protect'. Since he let his gaze slide over to the Brit, Gilbert could only assume that the green-eyed prick was the one that Francis intended for him to defend. The teen nodded, accepting the task just as their foe approached.

"Hi Artie!" Alfred said brightly. The American looked over his best friend's company with a faltering grin. He knew everyone there, and didn't necessarily like all of them. Especially Gilbert. His mighty awesomeness and the hero stared each other down, telepathically sending daggers into the other's head.

"Want to come sit with us?" Alfred offered his friend, letting his gaze drop. "You guys can come too." He added hastily when Elizaveta and Roderich appeared offended.

"No, he is fine." Francis slid closer to Arthur. Gilbert placed a firm hand on Arthur's shoulder, arm still around Matthew's waist, as he glared up at Alfred.

"He's alright with us. Go play with your rich ass friends. We've got him under control."

For a minute, there was hurt in Alfred's eyes. He ruffled Arthur's hair with a tight grin.

"Looks like I'm not welcome here. I'll walk you home after school 'kay?"

"Actually," Romano intervened. "He's got detention again. He's going to be staying after with Gilbert, Francis, Antonio and I."

The Brit gasped, horrorstruck. He had detention? Again? What the hell did he do this time? That wasn't going to look good on his permanent record. How was he supposed to get to Oxford? Find a decent job? Have a wife and kids?

...Oh wait. He was gay.

Alfred glared at the Italian, and then let his gaze drop.

"I never thought of you as the detention type." He laughed weakly. "I'll just walk home with Tino and Feliks then."

The blonde's stomach flipped as a crushing sense of guilt took him. Francis, realizing this, patted his hand sympathetically.

"He rejected you for Tino first. It's just a sample of revenge non?"

Suddenly, Elizaveta jumped up. Green eyes brightened.

"Revenge?" She said distractedly. "Three cheers for...Oh My Gerard! My Chem! Kill All Your Friends!"

Once again, everyone's focus was on a single individual as she grinned almost maniacally.

"I knew you were a crazy chick but this is taking it way too far." Gilbert said warily, holding Matthew next to him protectively. His body was titled, as if to shield the Canadian, as Elizaveta dug through her bag with a crazy grin. Antonio was in the same position with Romano who muttered profanities as he blushed. Roderich was the only one completely comfortable with Elizaveta at that moment. He knew his girlfriend. She wouldn't do anything drastic unless she was PMSing.

"Shoot! I left it in my other bag. Remind me to give you something after school today Arthur."

"Uh..." The boy coughed, a tad bit nervous. "S-Sure. Just make sure that it's an item won't get me suspended and/or expelled,

She shot him a confused look, and then shook her head.

"Ugh, men."

Slowly, Gilbert and Antonio eased out of 'Protection' mode. Gilbert's arm was still snug around Matthew's waist and Antonio's shoulder was touching Romano's, they wouldn't take any chances.

"I think we're all done here." Francis said just as the bell rang.

"We are. Come on Roddy. We need to get to Art."

"Did you finish your report?" Arthur heard Roderich ask lowly as the two drifted away. Gilbert yawned, murmuring something about sleep and walked off towards the roof. His Canadian boyfriend debated between going to class and following his boyfriend. Arthur laughed aloud as he turned a deep scarlet and called for Gilbert to wait.

"He's just like you!" He said to Francis. The teen snorted.

"In what way?" Blue eyes looked over the Canadian appreciatively. "I have Art with Elizaveta. We part here."

Arthur nodded and walked his own way, smiling a bit. For once, he didn't feel lonely at lunch. Alfred wasn't abandoning him for the popular kids, or forcing him to join them just so he could be ignored. Admittedly, he didn't get too much of a say in the conversation, but he was a main topic. They payed attention to him.

He kind of enjoyed it. The warm sensation in his gut told him that. Grinning broadly, he had a new skip in his step as he walked to his Music class.

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

Romano lied. He didn't have detention that day. Mr. Vargas gave threatened to give him detention, but that was the extent of it.

Gilbert, however, did have detention. Apparently, the albino had been caught throwing frogs from the Science room into the girls' bathroom just so he could freak out a certain Hungarian. At least, that was the story Arthur heard when he found the group from lunch huddled outside. They had a clear view of Vargas' second story window from where they were standing. Arthur spied Gilbert's crimson eyes staring them down as Antonio told him the story.

"H-He," The Spaniard was stuttering with laughter. "He thought he couldn't get caught. He was running all over the place with a crate of frogs and still believed-. The idiot!"

Antonio couldn't control his giggles any longer and leant onto Romano for support. Even the stingy Italian's eyes were watering with laughter.

"That bastard impresses me though! I used to be the only one who could piss off the old man that much!"

Annoyed, he finally turned to Elizaveta for the story.

"Care to explain the rest?"

"He stole frogs from the Science Lab, dressed in black, and started pulling all these James Bond moves in the hallway. He thought no one could see him but Roderich and I practically laughed our asses off when we saw him through the door window in the art room. Francis saw him with the frogs when he was delivering something to the office. He said that Gilbert was attempting to hide from him in someone's locker."

"When I said that I could see him clearly, he completely denied the fact that he was there." Francis shook his head, laughing to himself softly. "He's such an idiot."

"I don't know the rest of the story." Elizaveta admitted. She pointed at the two who were pounding their fists against the ground in a fit of giggles.

"But those two do."

"Actually," Matthew began. Arthur jumped, startled. When the Canadian got there, he had no idea. "I know what happened."

"Enlighten us please." Roderich requested. "I'm rather curious as to what that moron was doing also."

"Well, as Lizzy said, he was doing all these tricks to get down the hall. He really did believe that no one could see him. I saw him when I was Study Hall. I followed him to the bathrooms, and then he made his mistake."

"What was his mistake my dear cousin?"

Even Matthew snickered as he re-accounted the next part of the story.

"He released the frogs into the boys' bathroom instead of the girls'. And Vash was in there. The frogs jumped into his pants and…well, I'm sure you guys can guess what happened next."

Soon, the entire group was in hysterics. Teachers that were leaving shook their heads at the sight, wondering what their beloved country was going to end up like in the hands of the next generation.

Ten minutes later, the laughter died away and they were only plagued by the occasional giggle.

"Quick! He's looking this way! Everyone, point and laugh or make Peter Pan signals!"

Curiously, Arthur stared as Elizaveta placed her thumb on her nose and wiggled her fingers. Some followed suit, others simply pointed, feigning snickers. Without skipping a beat, Gilbert flipped them off and turned around.

"We'd better bail him out then. Or else he'll kill us as soon as he escapes."

Flexing his wrist, Romano picked up a few rocks from the ground.

One by one, stones hit the screen. Those inhabiting the room could hear it. Red eyes flickered back to look at them the first time, and were full-on staring as the Italian threw the missiles. Francis waved twice and clapped. In response, the Prussian grinned and snapped thrice, then stuck out his tongue.

"You guys should go hide somewhere unless you want to find your own asses in that hellhole."

Elizaveta and Roderich were the first to heed Romano's advice.

"We shall be waiting for you at the end of the first sidewalk." The dark haired man informed. They quickly sped off.

Matthew just disappeared. Arthur doesn't know how he does it, or when for that matter, but by the time Arthur realized that the Canadian hadn't spoken for a while, he was gone.

Francis and Antonio grabbed the Brit's shoulders and steered him to the side of the school just as the window opened. Julius Vargas glared out to his grandson, screaming in Italian,

"Lovino! What the hell are you doing?"

Romano replied with a bored drawl, but the same vigor his grandfather held was in his eyes.

"Throwing stones! What does it look like?"

"Why?"

"Because I want to!"

"That is no reason! Why can't you just grow up and be more like your brother?"

Gilbert jumped onto the three, just as Arthur spied the Italian boy backing down, as if struck. They all went tumbling to the floor, but the albino quickly recovered.

"We've got to hurry! I'm pretty damn sure Ludwig saw me and he's going to tell Feli. Vargas is going to find out soon!"

"He saw you this time huh? I thought no one could do that. What happened to _'You can't see me?"_

Francis asked mockingly. Pale lips scowled.

"Shut up. Let's run."

Arthur couldn't help but look back at Romano with mild concern. The boy looked dejected and his grandfather appeared almost remorseful, clutching his orange textbook.

"L-Lovino…"

The Italian ignored his grandfather, running to the gates.

"L-Let's go already idiots!" His voice was strangled. The freshman was…thrown off. Antonio quickly dropped back and hugging the Italian's shoulder. Romano buried his face into the Spaniard's shoulder, shuddering.

"Leave them alone. Just walk." Gil commanded.

Matthew was chatting happily with Roderich and Elizaveta at the end of the sidewalk. Their bright discussion quickly faded, however, as they approached.

Elizaveta's eyes just had to glance at Romano for her to approach the freshman. Francis left the Italian's side to allow the girl to rub soothing circles into the boy's back, speaking to him softly, as if she were his elder sister or mother.

Gilbert joined Matthew, catching his lips briefly before smiling devilishly. Francis, seeing this as an act of misconduct, jumped in the middle of the two and ensured that they weren't touching.

Which left Roderich and Arthur to hold a conversation among themselves.

An awkward silence hung about the two. Arthur scanned his brain for a conversation topic, when Elizaveta's soothing voice hit him head on.

"Ah, that's right! I would like to thank you for letting your girlfriend help me out."

"It is no problem." Arthur recognized the boy's accent as Austrian. "This gives me more time to practice with my piano."

"Oh you play?"

"Yes," Roderich smiled."I've been playing since I was 5."

Another relapse into silence.

"What of you?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you play any instruments?" Roderich asked as they stop before a busy intersection.

"The guitar. Both acoustic and electric."

"How long?"

"Since I was 9 years old." Arthur replied. He grinned fondly at the memories that came flooding in. Draco, at the age of fifteen, was the one who taught him how to use his first acoustic guitar. He picked up the basic gist of the strums pretty fast. He diligently practiced with his old guitar. From early in the morning to late at night, he was working with it in his room. His fingers were terribly wounded. (Draco didn't want his little brother to lose his only pick and his Mum refused to buy him gloves) But he felt accomplished whenever he managed to play entire songs or mastered a new technique his brother taught him. And when he showed it to Alfred, he was ecstatic. The feeling of pride that welled up inside of his chest when he saw the other's blue eyes light up always managed to lift his spirits. Learning with his eldest brother was amusing as well.

Until their father left.

"You really play? That's amazing!" said Elizaveta as she caught up with the two. Arthur nodded as he looked back at Romano, who was still hugging his Spaniard friend. The teen was sniffling, eyes and cheeks a deep scarlet. He never considered Romano the type to cry. What did his Grandfather say?

"I'm not a professional though." Arthur admitted when he turned back to the Hungarian. The girl grinned, grabbing Roderich's hand and hoisting it in the air.

"That's okay. This guy isn't a professional either, but he can really play."

"E-Eliza," Roderich began, reddening. Gilbert jumped in suddenly, saving the Austrian extra embarrassment.

"Did you tell him about your singing?"

"G-Gil!"

"This girl knows how to hit high and low notes. She can be an alto, soprano, or tenor. It's unnatural! It' s a shame she's such a damn bit-!" Gil was cut off when Elizaveta kicked him in the shin. The Prussian went down, clutching his leg with a howl.

"You hoe! I fuckin' swear I'll kill you one of these days!"

"That's fine. I'll make sure I resurrect and kill you back." The two glared, electricity cracking between them. Roderich and Matthew tried to break up the tension while Francis sidled up to Arthur.

"She truly knows how to sing. Roderich and Elizaveta perform so wonderfully when they're together. I wonder what'll happen when they add your guitar..."

"Oh, no!" Arthur exclaimed. He jumped away from Francis before the Frenchman could place his arm around him. "I cannot play with them."

"Why not?"

"B-Because-."

"Leave the guy alone you wine-guzzling idiot! He can't play for shit! Don't annoy him for it!"

Arthur wasn't sure whether to thank or slap Romano for his comment. At least he had his sarcastic vigor once more. The Italian walked right up to the two and grabbed Arthur's arm.

"You. Can you actually play anything?"

"I can play! Better than you, I'm sure!" Arthur exclaimed, pulling his hand back. Romano turned scarlet, about to curse him out, but Antonio chose to speak up.

"Then prove it! I want to hear you play!"

"I do as well mon ami. I've only heard their same old songs on repeat. A new chord would be interesting."

Francis smirked. The jerk knew that Arthur really didn't want to play, and the Brit knew that he knew.

"I-I can't play now! I don't have a guitar!"

"Then sing!" Gilbert shouted suddenly, throwing an arm about the Brit.

'I feel like dancing tonight!' He bellowed. Arthur winced.

'I'm gonna party like it's my civil right!' sang Antonio, also circling his hand around Arthur's shoulders. Romano doesn't sing, but snuck his way next to Antonio before Francis also joined the line, yelling,

'It doesn't matter where!'

'I don't care if people stare!' Elizaveta sang with a laugh. Arthur was surprised. The girl _was _a lovely singer. The others weren't exaggerating. Was Roderich also as good as they claimed? Elizaveta grabbed her boyfriend's hand and Matthew's ("E-Eh?"), dragging them so they could also join the procession.

'Cause I feel like dancing tonight!'

The four screamed into the afternoon. Arthur listened with interest as they release the rest of the song into the Fall air, laughing like idiots.

_'Everybody gettin' kinda crunk_

_I think some dude just grabbed my junk_

_Now I know how Ke$ha must be feelin'_

_Bros tried to turn me upside down_

_I put a keg tap to my mouth_

_But that's okay,_

_I'm dancing on the ceiling'_

They were like this all the way to his street. Even Romano and Matthew joined in for the chorus. Arthur didn't join. He would hate to make a fool of himself and he didn't know the lyrics.

But, he couldn't help but think, their actions still kind of entertaining and...fun?

The British teen quickly banished the thought from his mind. They were Francis's friends he was talking about. Anyone who hung out with the French perv wasn't good news.

But...Romano wasn't too vile when you got past all the curses. Elizaveta and Roderich weren't too bad. Matthew was already an acquaintance. Antonio was pleasant when they weren't exercising. And Gilbert...well at least he knew how to make someone laugh through his stupid blunders.

Wait. What was he saying? He only knew them for a day! How stupid of him!

"Hey Art, ain't this your house?"

'_Isn't.'_ The blonde thought, correcting the red-eyed teen.

"Yeah. Guess I'll go. Goodbye then."

"Wait!"

Elizaveta broke formation and jumped forward.

"Don't I get a goodbye hug? Friends don't leave friends without giving hugs!"

She grabbed his hand and pulled him close to her, thumping his back, then pulling back and performing a 'Peter pan' signal. Seeing how lost Arthur appeared, Roderich laughed.

"It's what they call a 'Bro Hug' S.S style. It's kind of their signature hello-goodbye greeting."

"Don't say 'their' Roderich. You know you're already one of us." The girl scolded.

"Here, let us show you." Matthew and Gilbert performed the ritual slowly. They grabbed each other's palms and pulled close, looping their arms around the other's shoulder to slap their back three times before pulling back, releasing their mock-handshake, and bringing their right hand up sideways so that their thumb could touch their nose and wiggled their fingers.

"Now you try it."

Awkwardly, Arthur turned to Gil. The albino guided him through it with a firm grip.

"You've got the basics down. With practice it'll become easier. You have to give one to everyone else before we can leave."

"Why do you guys do that?"

" 'Cause it's fun." Romano said with a shrug. The blonde went through the line of teens, the motions becoming more fluent with each. By the time he reached Elizaveta once more, he had the movement down pat.

They embraced, and then she pushed a case into Arthur's hands.

"Take this CD and listen to it. It's more Rock-Alternative than it is punk, but I think you'll like it. Bye best friend!"

"G-Get home safe then."

A chorus of farewells were uttered as the group moved down the street. Arthur waved, before sprinting into his house and up to his bedroom.

HE HAD FRIENDS! Friends that didn't run away after they realized how stingy he could be! Alfred used to be the only one! He had to hold in a girlish squeal as he looked at what Elizaveta gave him.

He had friends that loan him casual things like CDs!

"I have friends!" He yelled triumphantly.

"Do you really? That's great cousin!"

...Five minutes later, Arthur's room was clean and Peter-free. Collapsing on his bed, he took his CD player off a nearby shelf and threw the disc in.

_Now come one come all to this tragic affair  
>Wipe off that makeup, what's in is despair<br>So throw on the black dress, mix in with the lot  
>You might wake up and notice you're someone you're not<br>If you look in the mirror and don't like what you see  
>You can find out firsthand what it's like to be me<br>So gather 'round piggies and kiss this goodbye  
>I'd encourage your smiles I'll expect you won't cry<em>

Slowly but surely, a grin grew on Arthur Kirkland's face. He would like this CD. He would like it a lot.

"Hey, Franny?"

"Oui, mon petite souer?" ("Yes, my little sister?")

Elizaveta bit her lip, constructing her sentences carefully.

"You've never really approved of someone changing themselves in the _pursuit of l'amour_, so why start now? I mean, when Gil tried to become more gentlemanly to get Matthew, you got mad and yelled-Well that won't count 'cause it was Matt. But when I told you I wanted to be more feminine so I could date Roderich, you freaked. So why aren't you mad about Artie?"

The male nodded along to her words, staring into the rose he stole from Holly's garden. As he twirled the flower, a petal fell, landing at his feet as he stopped walking.

"Elizaveta, you are a woman of independence as much as Gilbert is a man who loves his individuality. You both know who you are, and you knew it back then. And you were happy with yourselves. When I heard that you wanted to change, I got mad because I knew that you wouldn't be happy after doing it. You wouldn't be the version of yourself that you love and cherish,

"I want Arthur to know himself and where he stands on things. He has to be comfortable with himself like you and Gil. The only reason I pulled Arthur away from Alfred and the rest was because I saw that he wasn't happy. Don't look so shocked, even we care for each other just a bit. I want him to change, not so he can get Alfred, but so he can be himself without restricting to what society expects. I want him to learn about his own individuality and how it feels to be surrounded by people who want to be friends because they respect and like his diversity. I want him to have _true_ friends. But most importantly, I want to teach him how it feels to have fun, the Sophomore Slumps style."

It took a few minutes for Elizaveta to swallow the lump in her throat.

"I…I never knew you felt that way. I kind of guessed that you had another motive but…Oh my Gerard Franny-pants, I love you. You're like, the best fake older brother in the world. When I get married to Roderich, I want you to be my bridesmaid."

"Uh…Okay then?"

The two shared a laugh, unaware of the blue eyes glaring at them from a window parallel Arthur's house. Francis Bonnefoy may have thought ripping Arthur Kirkland away from the jocks table would be easy, but it sure as hell wasn't.

Once a member of the In-Crowd, always a member.

/S.S.C.O.T.Y/

Thanks for the reviews, alerts, and faves guys! They mean a lot!

Almost 9k. I think I'll start cutting chapters down a bit. And get a lot more USUK scenes. Review! And please vote in my poll as to whether you prefer long or short chapters! Both really inspire me to work on this more often.


	4. 3:We're Only Good For The Latest Trend

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia:Axis Powers, Fall Out Boy or My Chemical Romance.**_

_**Chapter 3: We're Only Good For The Latest Trend**_

_Huff. Puff. Groan._

"Come on Arthur! I know you can do better than that!"

Amber eyes watched with pity as Antonio coaxed Arthur around the soccer field for his tenth time.

"I kind of feel sorry for the guy." Lovino said as the blonde stumbled.

"This kind of abuse is just...I can't even look anymore." Francis's voice was sorrowful as he turned away. Then he grinned.

_Finally._ _Finally_ that stingy British boy was getting his karma. Francis didn't forget the time the other cut his beautiful hair short in the fourth grade. He would never forget. Now, oh yes, now he was finally getting his revenge!

"Hey! They're kids on our field!"

"Ignore them! Just run with them! That's Carriedo! He's cool."

"Uh-oh,"

"Sacrebleu,"

The Soccer team decided to make their entrance, dropping off their items on the outdoor benches and stretching. Francis' heart sank before he put his ass in gear and ran after his friends, Romano close behind.

"We've got to go." He whispered to the Spaniard. Antonio shook his head.

"We can't. It's too dangerous. They've already started and some are blocking the path inside. He's bound to see Arthur."

"Who's bound to see Arthur?" Romano asked when he finally caught up. The two members of the Bad Touch Trio shared frantic looks.

"Alfred," they said quietly. That was all the Italian needed to know to form a plan. Slowly, a demonic grin stretched his face, cogs turning behind his green eyes. Looking as amiable as his brother, he ran up to the Brit.

"So, how did you like detention with my old man the other day?"

Furrowing their brows, two-thirds of the Bad Touch Trio looked to Romano with their question in their eyes.

_'Follow my lead.' _The Italian mouthed. If one looked closely, they would see the nubs of horns growing out of the freshman's scalp.

Shrugging, the two jogged up to Arthur also.

"You had detention with Roma's Grandfather? Why?"

"Cursing in class. The old git gave me hell for it." Arthur said, mildly surprised at the sudden attention.

"He only said 'hell'. Gil's done much worse. It wasn't even too serious."

"Yeah. The old fart's getting a bit more strict than usual." Romano remarked. His eyes looked over the field briefly, then they widened. He pushed Arthur forward with a slap on the back.

"Let's hurry! You have to hit 20 damn laps don't you? Shit, you tomato-hogging jerk! You don't give him a break do ya'? Run it you soggy douche bag! Before my churros get cold!"

Arthur complied with a slight frown. Romano caught Francis' eye and jerked his head backwards, where a lean blonde sophomore was running up to them. And fast.

"Hurry Arthur! Can't those scrawny legs of yours get you anywhere? Run! Or do you want me to beat you like I did during the mile run in 8th grade?"

"Ooh. What's the story behind that?" Antonio asked, not reading the tense atmosphere at all.

"Don't you dare tell him you little bugger!"

"Then run! Unless you want me to trip you so that you can fall face-first into deer dung?"

"We promised not to speak of that!" Arthur yelled, red faced. Francis dodged the Brit's hands with a smirk, sprinting ahead of him.

"You'll have to catch me to kill me!"

"Arthur!"

"Hmm?" The boy tried to turn, but Romano grabbed his face and urged him forward.

"You're just going to take that? That sucker just hit your pride! Go get him! **Run. Fucking.****Faster.****"**

His voice dropped towards the end as he cast a dirty look at the American not too far behind them. Antonio followed his glare, and uncharacteristically smirked, glancing from Alfred to Arthur.

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder huh?"

Oh? Maybe the Spaniard wasn't as tuned out as he had thought.

The freshman slapped Arthur on the back, evoking a high-pitched yelp.

"Faster! Faster! No slacking off!"

"Arthur!"

"Oh my frickin' Piero!" Romano screamed in frustration as Alfred entered a hearing distance. In a desperate flurry of movement, he side tackled Arthur into the ground.

"Let's play American football. Two hands!" He said over-enthusiastically as he slammed his hands onto Arthur's back. Francis and Antonio tried to hold back laughter as the boys got up, both covered in mud.

"The bloody hell was that for?"

"I just wanted to play with my friend. Is that a crime?" Romano asked defensively. The Spaniard inwardly applauded the freshman. He was a great actor. Francis, meanwhile, looked back at the field. Alfred was staring at them, but his feet pounded in synch with the rest of the team. The soccer coach, Mr. Waywards, had finally appeared, screaming directions to his team.

"Well, let's eat before taking a shower shall we? If the Soccer team is here, then we are a bit behind schedule. I'd rather you take your time eating and have a short shower rather than taking 45 minutes under hot water and smuggling baked goods into the hallways."

Francis directed them to their picnic set with a grin. His plan was going perfectly.

He bit into his croissant neatly as they sat to eat after using a bowl of water and a piece of soap to rinse out their hands, along with a spritz of hand sanitizer. (He and Antonio went first of course. Romano's and Arthur's muddy hands would only give the two more germs than before.)

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Arthur staring at Alfred as he laughed with his teammates.

"You'll be able to see him soon." The Frenchman assured, placing a hand on Arthur's palm.

"Why can't I speak with him now?" He demanded with a scowl.

"Well, for one, he's at practice."

"You idjits refused to let me speak to him yesterday too. Even though he approached me."

Francis fell silent at this. Antonio, a bit forcibly, changed the subject.

"So you're going shopping with Elizaveta today huh?"

"O-Oh yeah!" Romano was quick to catch on. "She was talking about it all of yesterday."

The Brit let the previous topic drop, bit didn't forget it.

" I am rather curious as to what she has in store for me."

Francis also jumped into the conversation, relieved due to Antonio's quick thinking.

"Lizzy has so much planned for you. She was telling me about all the different stores..."

He flied off into a mini-rant, doing his best to keep Arthur's eyes away from the American who was looking at up them with a glare.

They discussed until the food had vanished and the benches grew warm in the morning sun. Antonio, Arthur and Romano decided to take a short shower and said goodbye to Francis, who headed for his first class.

Antonio and Romano purposely guided Arthur to the showers on a path that avoided the Soccer team. The blonde didn't notice, but a certain star-player most certainly did. Antonio could feel a leer and angry frown even from 3 yards away. He didn't let this show in his grin of course. He couldn't worry Arthur or draw his attention to the player's gaze. That would almost completely ruin Francis's plan.

"Ha-ha! Do not worry! Elizaveta will be gentle! I am sure!"

He laughed, but the dark feeling in the pit of his gut betrayed his jovial expression. Things were going to get interesting. And the Spaniard knew this very well.

Antonio and Romano ran out to their classes first, leaving Arthur to pull on his shirt as the Soccer team piled in. He was about to grab his bag when someone grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the chatter of the sweaty students and into a secluded area, out the door and behind the shower building.

His spine slammed against the cold stone as two hands pushed his shoulders back. Pain ran through his torso, making him cringe.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed when is captor released him. He was trapped and he knew it. A warm body was directly in front of him, and the other's hands were against the wall right by his head. Maybe if he kicked hard enough-,

"Why are you ignoring me?"

Eyelids peeled back as emerald eyes looked to the boy in front of them curiously. Angry, dark blues looked back at him, dirty blonde hair intensifying his glare.

"Alfred?"

"Why are you ignoring me Artie? Why are you avoiding me?"

"What the hell are you blubbering about?"

"Oh, you know exactly what I mean Arthur."

Alfred's voice was malicious as he took another step forward. Arthur squirmed. He didn't like this confrontation. His friend never used that type of tone unless he was absolutely enraged.

"I'm afraid that I honestly do not."

Good. His voice did not waver. It was still the strict, sarcastic tone he normally used. Alfred scoffed and held Arthur by his right shoulder once more. He was close now, close enough to make their noses brush. Warm, chocolate scented breath brushed his neck.

"Don't lie. I know you're hanging out with Francis."

"It's only been a day or two."

"It's been 3 days if you're going to their table today."

Arthur couldn't object to that.

"But you still have Tino. You don't really need-."

"But I don't have you." The blonde said softly. Thank God Alfred's face was currently in his shoulder. He could feel his face burn a bright red as the jock's lips moved against his shirt.

"Y-You git! You're Alfred Jones for God's sake! You can hang out with anyone you want! I really don't see why you would want me!"

The taller boy straightened, looking his best friend right in the eyes.

"I want you because you're Arthur."

"That's h-hardly a sufficient reason!" He wasn't blushing anymore. It was just really hot outside. Yeah, just really warm. The boy began to walk away, trying to escape his confusing flurry of emotions. He could hear Alfred calling for him, but did not stop.

"See you later!" He called back lazily. He gave Alfred a small, backwards wave and continued on his way, doing his best to deny the red tint on his face.

-Once again, it was in Math class that the 'Let's-Help-Arthur-Actually-Look-Decent-And-Win-Back-Alfred-Exclaimation-Point' crew assembled. Roderich and Francis had finished their work long ago, the others were just frantically copying from their notebooks while trying to keep up with the conversation.

"He's not working with Alfred right?" Elizaveta asked, eyes glued to her boyfriend's notebook.

"Naw." Romano looked up, then back down at Francis's scrawl. "He's staring at the back of the bastard's head while working with Vash, Toris and that one Berwald kid."

"Alright then. Let's discuss." Francis snapped his gum as he folded his arms.

"Obviously, we have a problem."

"Whatever do you mean dear Franny?"

Elizaveta's nose scrunched, as if she just smelt a rather putrid, strong scent.

"Never try to use Arthur's accent again Gil. It's disturbing."

The Prussian jumped up, foot on his seat and his fist raised.

"I'll show you disturbing you little-!"

"Focus!" Francis exclaimed. He chewed on his gum thoughtfully before beginning,

"Arthur seems to miss Alfred and Alfred may feel the same way."

"So we let them see each other again? I thought we just started the absence plan yesterday!" The girl commented critically. The teen ended the start of a rant with a fluid hand motion to signal a stop.

"I know. But apparently the plan was in force before we even knew it. Alfred was the one to initiate the plan when he decided to ditch Arthur. We simply acted on and elaborated the rest of the plan yesterday. We aren't ditching it yet. Alfred has just realized that he misses Arthur. When he called for Arthur in gym class, that was only a reflex. He's used to having Arthur around you see? When Romano, Antonio and I surrounded Arthur, blocking off Alfred completely, he was thrown off. The fact that he could not get what he was used to having confused him. He was angry at the fact that his best friend was being overtaken. Yesterday's little fight played a significant part in it too."

Francis added hastily as the girl opened her mouth.

"Ooh, look who's an expert in human psychology."

Ignoring Gilbert's snide comment, Francis continued.

"We should still uphold the keep away plan just to be safe. Antonio, keep Alfred away from Arthur whenever he's outside please."

The Spaniard nodded, accepting his duty.

"Elizaveta, you can meet him at his locker when Antonio drops him off. If you and Roderich could also keep him at lunch periods if the rest of us are busy, I would be grateful."

"Roger that sir!" The girl stated brightly with a mock salute. Roderich was a bit surprised that he was included, but a smile from his girlfriend was enough to subject him to agreeing.

"Romano, could you stay with Arthur in the hallways?"

"I never said that I wanted to help prick boy with this type of thing!" Romano said, full of his usual stubbornness.

"You were fine a few hours ago." Antonio murmured, adjusting Francis' notebook before him.

"Please Romano? Don't we help you when you're in trouble? We break you out of detention don't we?"

The Italian pouted and threw his eyesight back down to his notebook. Francis, however, accepted this as yes.

"Merci mon ami!" He said with a smile.

"Now, Matthieu," The Canadian looked up from his spot beside Gilbert, shocked.

"I need you to keep my dear cousin far, far away from Arthur. Whenever he randomly decides to call or visit him, I want you to give him chores. I don't care what you do, as long as Alfred cannot maintain contact with Arthur from home. I know he's only your step-brother, and you two don't have the best of relations, but I want you to do all you can."

"I-I g-guess I can." The Canadian stuttered. Gilbert jumped in before anyone could full pay attention to the blonde boy.

"Hey! What about the awesome me? Where does my greatness come in?"

"We'll use you for dire situations Gilbert."

"Yeah. And then?"

"...You'll provide a distraction."

"...And then?"

Francis frowned and hit the other's head with his pen. "No more Youtube videos for you. Shush."

The Prussian scowled, sitting back down. His friend sighed. Gilbert was so immature sometimes.

"I suppose I could allow you to keep watch on the two when you're all in the same class." He said. With a grin that would make old ladies swoon, the albino sat up.

"Like now?"

"Now? What do you me-?"

But Gilbert was already up and running.

"Hey Artie!" He said loudly as he slid between Alfred and Arthur.

"I was trying to get a pencil from Arthur bro!" Alfred sounded irritated, but it only made Gilbert grin more.

"Well, I'm trying to keep a conversation with my best friend in the whole wide world! Besides Toni and Franny of course. So if you would kindly allow me to sit here..."

Gilbert grabbed an empty chair from the next table over and set it in between the two, grinning.

"Dude, it's just a pencil!"

_"Dude! I need to talk to Arthur!"_

"What the hell is it?" Arthur seethed. They fell into a conversation with ease, and soon Alfred was ignored.

"Do you know-?"

"Shush up Mr. Beilschmidt!" The Prussian frowned and stuck out his tongue as a certain blonde jock smirked at him. Mr. Mephisto was leering at the albino from underneath his half-rimmed spectacles. Grumbling, he ripped a page out of Arthur's notebook ("O-Oi!") and scrawled out his message at the top.

'_Tattoos and Piercings. Do u kno wht u wnt_?'

Arthur grimaced at the poor spelling, before writing out a reply in perfect script. (Which made Gilbert gag in return.)

_'Not exactly. I'll consider tattooing the Union Flag on my arm but no piercings."_

Gilbert ran the metal inside his tongue against his teeth self-consciously, before replying,

_'2 frickin' bad. Ur geting a piercing whther u lyke it or not.'_

_'No!'_ Arthur wrote furiously. Gilbert smirked.

_'Yes!'_

_'No!'_

_'Yes!'_

_'I do not want-!_' Gilbert snatched the paper away and wrote,

_'U FLIPPIN' GUSTA!'_

"Mr. Kirkland! Mr. Beilschmidt! Allow me to see that paper that you're writing together."

All eyes turned to the two as Gilbert stood. He tossed the paper at Arthur, who hastily threw it back. Green eyes met dark crimsons, and the two nodded. Then Gilbert, with a wicked grin, crumpled the paper into a small wad and swallowed it whole. Girls gasped, while boys expressed their disgust through vulgar sounds. Well, except for the group at the back.

"You're such a frickin' idiot!" Romano exclaimed.

"Mierda! Gil! Y-You-!" Antonio and Francis were quaking with laughter while Matthew, Elizaveta, and Roderich just shook their heads, pretending not to know what just occurred.

Gil, feeling triumphant, smirked at Alfred with a twinkle in his eyes. Mephisto was a bit disgruntled, but he rapidly recovered.

"Kirkland, Beilschmidt, Go stand in the hallway."

Gilbert grabbed Arthur's hand and practically skipped into the hallway, laughing.

"Consider this your badass-punk rock or whatever the hell you want to call it, Lesson #1; Never give in. It doesn't matter where you are or whatever the hell you're doing. If you really don't like, then go ahead and defy all sense of authority."

"That could cause numerous problems though-."

"Or course. There are certain places where this rule doesn't apply. You should take some responsibility when it comes to your job and all that shit. You still have to eat after all."

Arthur looked Gil in the eye once more. The other boy grinned, flashing him a thumbs up. The Brit could admit one thing: Gilbert Beilschmidt was definitely nothing short of amazing. The term awesome could be saved for another time, but amazing was definitely an option.

"I never knew you had it in you Kirkland. Congrats, you're officially on the 'Wanted' list the teachers make up for students." Romano said as he sets his lunch tray on the table. He picked up his pizza, ripping his first bite as he gave Arthur a teasing wink. Antonio nabbed a cookie from Francis, who grabbed Arthur's in turn, and said,

"Honestly! I always assumed that you were the studious type. Tal conducta mal."

"What was on that paper anyway?" Roderich asked.

"A piercing discussion. I couldn't have anyone else know about that now could I? It would be too unprofessional for the awesome me."

"I bet you just didn't know what to do in that situation, so you decided do something stupid and eat it." Gilbert shot Elizaveta a withering glare and tossed a piece of pepperoni at her. The meat missed his target, which gave the girl the ability to throw her Pepsi at the troublemaker.

" Arthur, we're going shopping right at the Luxia. Do you know where that is?"

The Brit nodded. He knew the place, although not too well. It used to be, a place where he and Alfred would spend most of their Saturdays or Friday nights. The Luxia was the most hyper-active mall in the tri-state area. The multitude of stores made a single trip cover most of a shopping list. The food court wasn't bad either. Arthur really did like the fish and chips they served on Sundays.

"Good," Elizaveta said. She sat next to Arthur, after giving Roderich an apologetic look, and pulled out a colorful notebook full of stickers and bands. Arthur grinned as he saw a 'My Chemical Romance' sticker across the front. He started murmuring the lyrics to 'The Black Parade' under his breath. Instead of quickly flipping through the book, Elizaveta turned to Arthur with a happy grin.

"You listened to it!"

Arthur blushed as he was caught, and quickly broke their gaze.

"So I listened to a few songs. That most certainly does not mean that I enjoyed them."

"You liked them," Elizaveta nudged Arthur with a sly wink and smirk.

"You just need to listen to one song and you fall in love. They do save lives after all."

"How in the world does that work?" Arthur asked irritably.

"They just...do. It's kinda' hard to explain. You really need to meet their hardcore fans or go to one of their concerts to truly understand it. Youtube comments help too, but you won't really get it until you meet someone that was legit moved by their music."

A My Chemical Romance concert? Sure, Arthur may have not despised the CDs, but a concert? Most definitely not! Before Arthur could voice his thoughts, Elizaveta spoke up again. A ripped out page placed on the table.

"You looking Francis?"

"Yes. What is this mon chere?"

"The list of shops we're going to today. So we'll be going to Criminal Damage first..."

Elizaveta's voice trailed off as Arthur's focus dissolved. His eyes had traveled across the lunchroom and had met startled blues. Tino was still around his arm, tugging at it and pleading, but Alfred only gave him a few words in reply, never breaking eye contact with Arthur.

His sky blues hold a restrained rage (Towards Gilbert and Francis?), betrayal (Probably for Arthur himself.), and questioning. (Which could be aimed at both Matthew and Arthur)

Arthur stared into these blues for the rest of the period, his pizza running cold and his female friend's words flying past his head. Not once was eye contact broken. Nor was a single word uttered. There were only silent messages passing between the two as the time flew by.

By the end of his lunch period, Arthur discovered exactly what Alfred wanted. He sighed as the others laugh about some stupid joke, drowning in teenage angst and self pity.

Yes, he knew. But he did not necessarily like it.

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

And so we reach a critical point. We'll start seeing a punk Arthur in the next chapter or two. I'm really looking forward to it! I think this story's going to be epic and I hope you all stick around for it.

Once again, the reviews, alerts and faves mean a lot. Don't be afraid to rip apart my writing. Critique always helps.

I hope you liked this chapter, albeit its shorter length. Have an awesome week!


	5. 4:Besides,We've Got Such Good Fashion

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy, Criminal Damage Clothing, Hot Topic, a Metro card, Converse-Vans, or Hetalia: Axis Powers.

_**Chapter 4:**____**We're Only Good Cause You Can Have Almost Famous Friends**__**. **__**Besides, We've Got Such Good Fashion Sense**_

"Move it men! We've got to have Arthur back home by 10, which mean we only have until 9 to be in that mall! It's...Ah, damn! It's already 4! Move your butts already!"

The three ran, both men under constant pressure to go faster. Luckily, just as the bus pulled in, they arrived, huffing and puffing. The girl didn't slack off. She all but threw them onto the bus and flashed her Metro card at the driver. The three clambered to the back, taking their seats and collapsing onto one another as the bus moved forward.

"Never again." Arthur groaned.

"F-Foutre." Francis heaved.

"You two need to learn how to run! Even Arthur was faster than you Francis!"

"He's the one that's practicing with Toni. I only watch."

The Frenchman's attempt to defend himself wasn't enough to block the girl's wrath. The Hungarian began a speech on how Francis would get lazy and fat, and lose the great figure he already had. Sure, he had some pretty nice biceps now, but if he continued to simply eat at Antonio's breakfast feasts, then he could kiss them, and all the girls who ogled at them, goodbye. And don't even get her started on the amount of times a week he skipped gym to horse around with Gil.

She continued this rant all the way to the Luxia. Even when they were slinging their backpacks over their shoulders and jumping off the bus, she was speaking to Francis with vigor.

"L-Let's get right to shopping Elizaveta." Arthur interrupted. The girl's voice was starting to get to his head. She sent Francis a warning glare, then faced the huge mall with a smile.

"I love this place." She said. The British boy looked around, curiosity shining in his eyes.

He hadn't been to the Luxia in a long while. He was glad a majority of it didn't change. The luminescent lights were still as bright and the black tiled floors smooth and polished. Of course, the entire establishment was still busy. Families, teenagers, friends and individuals were all over, conversing, laughing or arguing. It was mostly teenagers though, since school hours were finally over. Girls giggled as they rode the escalators. Boys on skateboards slid down stair railings and circled fountains. Three happy cheerleaders ran into all the expensive stores as if they actually had the money to afford whatever was sold.

With mild surprise, Arthur followed Elizaveta into one of these very stores. A shop that went by the name of Criminal Damage.

_'At least it's not Hollister or Abercrombie,'_ Arthur thought as they strolled in. Elizaveta gleefully skipped to the Men's section and the other boys reluctantly follow. Green eyes caught sight of a price tag falling to the floor, making Arthur choke on his spit.

No, the store definitely wasn't Hollister; it was more expensive.

"Do we have the money to afford these?" The boy whispered as he saw Elizaveta throw jeans over her shoulder.

"Normally? No. But they're having a half off sale today so everything is going to be about a fifty dollars each."

"I don't have a fifty dollars!" Arthur exclaimed.

"Neither do I. But I do have my Dad's credit card."

"Aren't your parents going to be mad?"

Elizaveta shrugged.

"My mom's dead. A perfect excuse for my reckless, teenage rampage of misplaced angry actions' or whatever.

The blonde didn't say a word. He wished not to offend the girl with any thoughtless comments, so he just took the load of the jeans off of her shoulders and followed her as she moved throughout the store. Arthur said a quick prayer as the girl picked up a pair of black demin with legs that looked way too constricting for his liking.

"You are buying him skinny jeans at Criminal Damage? Why not a less expensive store like Levi's?" Francis asked as he looked warily at the price tags.

"One, these are amazing jeans. They're durable, but when it comes time for me to rip them, they don't fray too badly. Two, they will be comfortable. Arthur aims for comfort rather than style. If I just toss him skinny jeans that look good, but are tight and itchy, he'll hate them. These jeans are tight, but they won't irritate his legs as much. And they have such pretty colors!"

"I see. Can you buy me a pair?"

"You didn't bring your money?"

"I left my wallet in my other, uncomfortable jeans."

Elizaveta laughed aloud. The three continued throughout the store until Arthur's arms threatened to break.

"Now," The girl said as she ushered him to the dressing room. "Go try them on!"

Arthur let her push him through the door. With a slight frown, he stepped into an empty stall and dropped his pants. He tried on the black jeans first. They looked alright on him. His legs appeared longer. Of course, jeans weren't his first choice of clothing, but if he had to wear them he would. They were comfortable too. Arthur grinned unconsciously as he walks around in them. Elizaveta wasn't lying about that. They did constrain his thighs, but they didn't brush against them unfavorably. He took them off and folded them, setting them in nice heap on his right.

Then he attempted to pull on a looser pair. Just as he released them, they dropped to his ankles. These jeans got set down on his left.

His third pair of jeans weren't as good as the first, but not as bad as the second. Comfort was ensured. Favorable style was not. They were a patronizing shade of white. Arthur hated to even look at them in the mirror when he tried them on. Then again, Elizaveta was probably going to give him a lot of things he didn't like. With a sigh, he set them in the 'Accepted' pile and pulled on his next pair.

About 20 pairs of jeans later, Arthur had 11 jeans he was willing to toss and 9 he can buy. Elizaveta was quick to set the rejected articles of demin on a nearby bench and rushed the others to the counter. The cashier, a bored dark haired boy, let them purchase without question. Elizaveta gleefully swiped the card and entered the pin number. Mere seconds later, the jeans were in bags in Francis' hands and they were rushing to their next store.

'Spencer's'' is the next store they enter. Elizaveta is a bit more eager to enter this one.

"Let's see! We'll get you some jackets and hoodies here and maybe a shirt or two. Then we'll run over to Hot Topic and buy some band tees."

Arthur freezes at the name of the next store slips Elizaveta's lips. Hot Topic? The store with all that crazy fake hair and piercings and loud, obnoxious music? He has seen the type of people that entered that store. And Gilbert was one of them.

Ugh. He shudders as Elizaveta looks through the racks. He almost wants to shout at he to stop as she pulls a black shirt, covered in graffiti pinks and ink splatters, and holds it. She picks out a jacket adorned with the anarchist 'A' on its breast pocket and skips up to the cash register. Arthur can fell his dread all the way down to his loafers. He scowls as they enter the shop, and practically jumps back in fear as a girl with scarlet liberty spikes passes him.

"Don't tell me you're scared." Elizaveta says as she notices his nervous glances.

"I am not-!"

"Good. Then we're going in now."

He really should have kept his pride quiet.

They're stared at as they enter the shop. There are no whispers or anything like that. Just a simple stare, a head shake of disbelief or even a laugh. Arthur hears the words 'Newb' and 'Prep' tossed around but that's the extent. All of the colorfully dressed teens just acknowledge the fact that he's there and turn away.

"They're...okay with it." Arthur says in shock.

"Of course. They aren't too scorning unless you offend them or something. These guys are a bit cooler when it comes to outsiders. As long as you're not some poser or elitist, the guys in the Hot Topic won't roast ya' or anything like that."

"What about other Hot Topics?"

"Some of them are as cool as this one, some are full of pricks, and Hot Topic junkies who like the call themselves punk when they only listen to Blink 182 and All Time Low. There's nothing wrong with those bands of course," Elizaveta adds hastily when a few leers where sent her way. "But you can't just listen to two pop-punk bands and call yourself the brand new Sid Vicious. There's a hell of a lot more to the lifestyle. It takes a year or two to completely get the style and a hell of a lot of dedication. Just shopping at Hot Topic for band t-shirts will get you nowhere."

"Amen." Someone in the back mutters.

"Then why are you bringing me here? I'm not punk."

"No. But you have the qualities for it. You can get your opinion in and have a pretty high tolerance for everyone's different tastes. Plus, somewhere in you that I-don't-give-a-flying-fuck attitude is lying dormant. We just need Gil to rip it out of your chest."

"I see. But-."

"No buts! Run with it for a while. I think you'll have fun with it. If I can't make you a full punk rocker, then so be it. You already like some of the bands though, so I don't see why I can't push you at the full lifestyle. Green Day, Sex Pistols, The Ramones. Those guys made punk."

A few whistles and claps made Elizaveta blush.

"And you've been listening to them since you were, like, 3 right? You already like the music style then. You just don't dress the part. We'll start slowly with commercial punk, then we'll crack down on what it really is.

A hand was clapped onto Arthur's shoulder and he jumped in surprise. A teen with a bright blue mohawk was grinning at him, snakebites under his lip shining in the light. His cerulean eyes looked at Arthur with a mix of amusement and respect.

"You look like such a fricking prep right now but you like Armstrong so I guess you're cool. Let Liz dress you up so they don't beat you up when she drags you to a Green Day concert."

"Z! What's up dude?"

Elizaveta was pulled into a 'bro hug' and fist bumped the guy before they continued their conversation.

"Nothing much. I'm still just skating y'know? How 'bout you and little Roddy?"

"We're fine. Just busy. I'm still singing and he's still playing. Oh, not to mention my new little fashion project right here." She gestured towards Arthur.

"Hullo." The blonde said awkwardly. He looked back to Francis for support but the other boy grinned, waved goodbye, and escaped the shop. Great. Now it was only Arthur, Elizaveta, the Zane kid, and a room full of strangers.

"'Sup?" Zane asked, sticking out a leather-gloved hand. Arthur shook it reluctantly.

"Nothing much." Damn! He was sounding weak.

"I'm Zane Kardnal. You?"

"Arthur Kirkland."

Zane nodded and let his hand drop. He refered to Arthur with a jerk of his head.

"This the kid who just got into My Chem?"

"Yup." Elizaveta nodded with a smug grin. "He was humming along to 'Helena' all of our lunch period."

"Are you guys looking for a Killjoy shirt?" Zane held up previously mentioned article of clothing, shaking it suggestively.

"He just got into them like yesterday. A Black Parade shirt or Three Cheers would do."

"Aww. He hasn't listened to Bullets?"

"No. I only gave him those two. I could never part with Bullets. It's like, their roots dude. I could never just hand it away. I don't even trust Roderich with my Bullets CD."

"Aight. I can understand that. Then, let's have him listen to it now."

"We have to shop Zane. The concert I'm taking him to is next week."

"Then we'll have him listen to the CD now while you grab some clothes. Hey," The blue haired boy caught her by the shoulders with a sly smile. The spikes on his boots scratched the floor as he walked her along to the shirt section.

"Trust me. I'll take care of him when he comes here. Hell, I'll even give you guys some CD deals. Lord knows you Papi would appreciate it."

Elizaveta nodded and began to look through the pile of shirts.

"Just don't break him. If he suddenly start listening to metal or something like The Misfits, then he'll back up. Give him some Alternatives like Paramore or My Chemical Romance. All Time Low's 'Nothing Personal' would be pretty nice too."

"Got it mam!" Zane yelled behind him as he grabbed Arthur's wrist.

"Alright kid. You ready to give up on most of the shit you hear on the radio and listen to some real music?"

Arthur murmured an affirmative as he died on the inside. This couldn't possibly be good.

He's wrong. The music the teen let him listen to suited his tastes completely. Beaming like Antonio, he cradled headphones by his ear as 'Demolition Lovers' was replayed.

"It was weird." Zane said as Elizaveta approached the two with her purchases. "I don't think I've ever met someone who likes Bullets just as much as Black Parade or Revenge. You'd better call me and tell me how he reacts to Danger Days."

"_What? What did you say?"_

"Not you Arthur, I was talking to Zane. I'll call you broski. No prob." Elizaveta said with a salute.

"We still up for Saturday?"

"Hells yeah! If it gets cancelled, I'll text you.

Zane grinned at her, then pried the headphones away from the blonde.

"Ya' ain't too bad kid. Give me your number. I'll let you know whenever I find something that you may like."

The blonde smirked back, then recited his number. After some fist pumps and "Deuces", the two were strutting out of the store.

"I didn't know you had a cellphone!"

The blonde only shrugged.

"You never asked for my number."

"Well now you're going to give me it."

"Give you what?" Francis asked as he approached.

"My cellphone number."

"You have a cellphone?"

Arthur's palm connected with his face.

"262-." He began, only to have a hand cover his mouth. After the Frenchman pulled out his own phone, he restarted.

"262-XXX-XXXX"

"Alright." Elizaveta drew out the syllables as she tapped on the buttons. "Got it! Now, run it boys! We've got an appointment with Leah and we still need to buy you some sneakers. Wait! Stop running! I just spotted a Converse -Vans store! Turn!"

That they do, fast walking to the store with the Hungarian leading the way. Gliding through the doorway, they looked around.

"We're looking for black All Stars Francis. And some checkered slip-ons while you're at it. Ooh! We'll grab these too!"

Elizaveta snatched a pair of Chuck Taylor's with the Union jack decorating the back before another teenage girl. The girl leered with her piercing jade green eyes, scowling, and left with a huff and flip of her sandy blonde hair.

And so the search began. Arthur found a few pairs of sneakers he liked and showed them to Elizaveta for approval. She nodded at all but one pair of pine green high tops and bought them with haste.

"Now we're running late." The girl groaned as the cashier takes his time with bagging. Francis coaxed her while Arthur drummed his fingers on the table.

"Late for what exactly?"

"Your appointment. Ugh, it's already 7! We won't have time to...Wait, alright. Francis,"

"Hmm?"

"Do you know where Dire Combat is?"

"The shoe store?"

"Yeah."

Francis considered the question for a minute.

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Great! Run over there and start looking for a pair of combat boots that'll fit Arthur! He's a size 9. I need to rush him over to Leah's."

As Francis ran off, Elizaveta and Arthur also took their leave.

"What kid of appointment did you make?" Arthur asked a they ran.

"A hair appointment."

The British boy froze.

"Nothing too serious. We're not dying your hair purple or anything. You're just getting highlights. Like, there will be a change but only a subtle one. If Alfred doesn't notice it or your new clothes, then we' ll have to resort to more drastic methods."

Arthur almost wished that his best friend would notice everything. They round a corner and continued on to the end of a pathway. The salon didn't seem too busy. Only one or two customers were under the dryer. The girl tapped on the door five times and waited, bouncing on her feet. Soon, a brunette appeared and gave Elizaveta a short hug. Arthur can only assume that this lady is Leah. She's young. Probably fresh out of college. Her long brown hair was pulled up into a ponytail that still reached her shoulder. A comb was behind her ear, its light shade of umber matching her eyes as she embraced Elizaveta.

"Eliza!" She exclaimed.

"Le-Le!" The smaller shouted in return.

"Gurl, I haven't seen you in so long! What the hell have you been doing?"

"Helping this guy catch someone's attention."

Arthur shook hands with Leah as the stylist's attention was redirected.

"Arthur Kirkland."

"Leah Maxwell. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise."

"So why are you two here?" Leah asked as she inspected Arthur's hair.

"He needs highlights. A light brownish color would be nice." Elizaveta watched as Leah led Arthur down into a chair.

"Mmm...How about a few shades of a darker blonde. Not brown yet but a shade or two above that?"

"Alright. You are the professional. You can start now right?"

"Affirmative."

"Ok. Take care of him please. I've got to run and meet Francis." Elizaveta picked up her bags and gave her male friend a look, silently asking him to behave. He only rolled his eyes with a small smile.

"Be back before 8 or else Imma sic Zane on you!" Leah called as Elizaveta made her exit. She then removed a comb from a drawer and rakes=d it through Arthur's hair, separating it into different sections. Small talk was made and Arthur slowly shifted into a more comfortable state.

"So what's the name of the boy you want to impress?"

"How do you know-?"

"Last time Elizaveta brought a stranger here, it was some albino kid head over heels. I had to dye his hair black in an attempt to make him look normal."

Arthur snickered as the image of Gilbert with dark hair passes through his mind. So that was how he managed to get Matthew to quit his fear of the red-eyed boy.

The stylist rubbed a light coat of oil on his scalp before Arthur realized that she was waiting for an answer.

"He's just an old friend. Not a romantic interest."

"If he's just an old friend, why are you looking to impress him?"

"He's been..." Arthur trailed off as Tino appeared in his mind, accompanied with Alfred's laugh. "He's been hanging out with someone else lately so I think I'm being replaced. I most certainly don't want that or at least that's what Elizaveta thinks."

"You don't think so?"

"I mean, I know that he hasn't been hanging around me lately and I am mad about that but I'm not jealous. I don't like him like that."

"Hold this." Arthur held the tub of dye as Leah begins to spread it on different areas of his hair.

"Jealousy doesn't necessarily mean you have to be in love with the person. Maybe it's because you implied it in that way that they think that you like him."

Well, she had a point.

"Why are you so calm about it? Not a lot of people accept homosexual relations that don't exist."

"I've got two reasons-Hold the tub a bit higher for me-One, Eliza made me watch Junjou Romantica and Loveless with her back in 7th grade. That shit like messed with my mind broski. My gaydar is at its power peak, and I don't really mind. I've been converted to Yaoi fangirlism."

Arthur didn't know what this meant, so he remained silent.

"Two, it would be rather hyprocritcal of me to throw you out for being gay."

She flashed her ears in the mirror. Only one remained pierced. Her right.

"Oh,"

"Mm-hmm."

"I thought that was only effective for men?"

"Nah, some chicks do it too. Hold up that tub dude! I don't want to break my back!"

She finished with her comb in ten minutes and set it in the bucket.

"Just put that on the counter."

Arthur complied with her demands and stood, wet strands of hair threatening to stick to his neck.

"You just have to wait for the dye to set in. Then we'll rinse it out."

Leah pulled off her gloves and les one of the previous customers out from under the dryer as the Brit found a chair to sit in. About 15 minutes later, his hair was getting rinsed out and a shower cap placed on his head.

"This is so girly," He complained as he is led to the dryers.

"You're probably going to be the girl in the relationship so suck it up." The stylist grinned as she set the temperature and timer. A great rush off air sent his shower cap dancing as Arthur sat under the dryer stonily. He was glad Francis wasn't there to see the spectacle. But, karma decided to be a bitch and allowed the Frenchman to walk in while Arthur's hair was in the middle of drying.

"Arthur Kirkland is not amused." The Frenchman laughed. Arthur just flipped him off.

"Can you just blow dry it?" Elizaveta asked "We need to get him home by 10 and we still need to catch the bus."

"Sure Eliza. Come on blondie!"

But Arthur struggled to stay under the dryer helmet, fighting off prying hands. It was only when Elizaveta grabbed his legs and yanked did he release his hold.

Even when they were exiting the salon, Elizaveta and Francis were laughing. Even when they were consuming what they were ordered at the food court, Elizaveta and Francis were chuckling. Even when they boarded the bus, the two were giggling. When Arthur slapped Francis upside the head, however, their giggles were cut short.

"That actually hurt," The blonde said out of shock more than anything else.

"Good. Let the pain teach you a lesson."

The three sat in silence for a minute or two, and then Elizaveta decided to look through the bags.

"Whoa...when did we buy these?"

Elizaveta held up 4 CD cases with a bewildered look. Arthur, the tips of his ears a bright red, was quick to snatch them up.

"Those are mine! Zane bought them for me!"

"He bought you Bullets? I didn't even know that Hot Topic still sold Bullets!"

"He had to rummage through the storage room to get it for me." mumbled a blushing blonde, who's holding his CDs protectively.

"He got you Danger Days too! And Nothing Personal! Damn, he must like you! It took me months to snatch those kind of deals from him! Wait, what is that?"

Arthur tried, and failed, to hide the final CD behind his back. Elizaveta's eyes widened as they passed over the cover.

"T-That's...That's 'From Under The Cork Tree'! That's a Fall Out Boy CD!"

Arthur nodded, cheeks even redder. He tuned out as Elizaveta started talking about how much she loved Fall Out Boy and how he was oh-so lucky among other outrageous subjects. Francis won't help him. He's still snickering even though Arthur smacked him. So the poor little blonde was stuck between a raving, mad fangirl and a mocking frenemy until they reach their stop and divided the bags.

"We're going to your house right Francis?"

"Oui. Right this way. It's not too far from here."

The two followed Francis as he led the way. Arthur was silent, considering his day. It wasn't bad. And they didn't buy anything outrageous. (At least, according to what he had seen.) And his hair didn't look too wild, unlike what he pictured Gilbert looking like. Wait, Gilbert!

"Is it true that Gilbert dyed his hair black?"

Suddenly, Elizaveta started choking on her spit, leaving Francis to answer with a laugh.

"H-He thought that Matthew would find him attractive. Before that, my dear cousine thought he was one of the vampires from that one movie. What was it called?"

"He thought that he was one of the vampires in Twilight!"

"Pfft." He let a single, snarky giggle loose.

"It was so amusing. Of course, I've never liked the idea of Gil dating my fragile Matthew, but that month of a dark haired Gil made it all worth it."

"H-He wore a polo and dress pants too and tried to compliment Matthew daily and-and." Elizaveta managed to stuttered out between spurts of laughs.

"Just like Beauty and the Beast. Alas, my best friend is an idiot. Oh, watch your step." Arthur hopped over a tree root as Francis dug his keys out of his pocket and sashayed forward, opening his front door with a, "Voila~!"

Francis' house was huge. A grand chandelier hovered a few feet above their heads as they stepped inside. The floors were smooth marble and made Arthur's shoes squeak. The entryway was the size of an average dining room. The stairs at the end of the area came led to both their right and left. Arthur was a bit intimidated by the gold railings but Francis and Elizaveta were right at home.

"Maman!" Francis called. "Je suis chez moi!"

Anna-Marie Bonnefoy, came running down the stairs. Her light blonde curls flew out behind her as she leaped down the stairs. When her sky blue eyes reached her grinning son's. She jumped into Francis' arms.

_"J'étais tellement inquiète! Où étiez-vous?"_ She asked. Her lovely voice was soft, endearing even. Francis brushed her hair back, rubbing a soothing circle on her back.

_"Nous étions seulement à la Luxia. Il n'ya pas besoin de s'inquiéter tellement. Il est mauvais de votre santé. "_

Anna-Marie nods, then releases her boy. Turning instead to Elizaveta.

"And how are you my dearest?"

"_Je vais bien_." Arthur wasn't surprised that Elizaveta knew how to reply in the woman's native tongue. It was just as choppy as Mrs. Bonnefoy's English, but it worked.

"And you Arthur?"

"I'm fine mam." Arthur said, letting his gaze drop. He didn't know French too well. All the school taught him was the basics.

"Maman, we will be going to my room."

The woman nodded, curls bouncing, and held the hem of her white nightgown.

"_Oui._ Do not stay up too late."

Francis gave his mother one last reassuring look in return and led the other two up the stairway, opposite the side his mother was traveling.

"I like your mom. She's nice. And her French is beautiful."

"Just wait until she sees a failed Math test. Then her French doesn't sound too pretty."

Arthur cracked a small grin at this and entered the male's room. It's neat, surprisingly. There were no questionable scents and the floor was pristine. His walls were beige, and his rug a dark blue. Francis removed his shoes, revealing black dress socks, and jumped onto his bed.

"Just throw the bags in the corner and pick out whatever Arthur needs for this week. We'll sort through the rest later and let Arthur take them home in small packages so his brothers don't notice immediately."

"Okay. That's a good game plan. Let's go Artie. Pick out a pair of jeans first."

Arthur chose the first pair of jeans he tried on. They were definitely his favorite, with his red skinny jeans as a close second.

"You'll wear that to see Gil tomorrow. Along with...this shirt. Let's show off to them a bit."

She tossed a black t-shirt at him. He arranged it, and his mouth can only break out into a wide smile,

"This is a My Chemical Romance t-shirt!"

"Yup. The cover art from Revenge is one there. But just wait till you see the jacket I got you." Elizaveta rummaged through the bags and pulled out what she was looking for with a soft "A-ha!"

"A Black Parade jacket! How?"

"Me and Zane go way back to 5th grade. I may not be able to grab rare CDs off of him, but he can hook me up with quite alot of clothes."

All traces of gentlemanly-posture and mannerism was tossed out the window as Arthur caught Elizaveta in an embrace.

"Thank you ever so much Lizzy! Oh my god! This probably cost so much! How can I repay you? Oh thank you! Thank you! Thank you!'

"Members of the MCRmy have to help each other out right?"

"MCRmy?"

"It's a name for My Chemical Romance fans. Like,' there's so many of us that we can form an army'. Or 'the fans are as strong as an army'. Something like that. A lot of definitions have been thrown around. It really just depends on the person. You're only a rookie though. Seeing as how you only discovered My Chem yesterday and all."

"I see."  
>Blue eyes looked at them from above a copy of <em>'Interview With The Vampire'.<em>

"Uh, unless you guys are planning on sleeping with me-."

"Eww! Francis! Gross! I have a boyfriend thank you very much!"

"Bloody Wanker!"

"Hey, you guys need to get home or stay here. Take your pick."

Elizaveta was quick to hand out the rest of Arthur's clothing. "These are your clothes for the rest of the week. If you come into school without them, I will strip you down and drag your butt back to Francis' house so he can dress you."

"I-I'll wear them."

"Aw, but mon ami~!"

Arthur bid Elizaveta goodbye and gave Francis a short wave. He stuffs his clothes in his backpack and leaves, Mrs. Bonnefoy nowhere in sight. As he was about to jump out the front door, however, something catches his eye. It was Francis' agenda, laying on a nearby table.

_'Friday_

_-Help Arthur out when catching Alfred's attention_

_-Assist in bailing missing member out of detention_

_- Help Elizaveta and Arthur shop_

_-Interrogate Arthur about Alfred for stunning realization_

_-See whether or not Arthur is uncomfortable with new group. If so, help him cope.'_

Arthur sighed and lay his things down by the door. Elizaveta gave him a look as she walked out, but he could only give her a tired smile as he walked back up to a certain blonde's room.

"Thanks." He said to the blonde teen on the bed. Francis gave him a questioning glance as Arthur looked way, a tint of red spreading across his face.

"For helping me out with Alfred I mean. I-It's appreciated."

"Excuse me?"

"I am not about to repeat myself you git! I-I'm leaving! I'll see you on Monday!"

Arthur left the room and ran down the stairs, grabbing his backpack and jumping out the door. There. He had expressed his gratitude. Now he had no reason to feel any guilt.

He didn't stop running until he reached his own house and was stumbling across his lawn. Even then, he's still late. Around the fireplace were his brothers and Peter. The last paying rapt attention to his ant farm while the others stared into the fire's depths. Except for Draco.

"Evening," Arthur said slowly, testing the atmosphere.

"You were out pretty late." Mac remarked. "It's nearing 11."

"Sorry. I got caught up."

"Just inform Draco as to where you're going next time." Jon suggested in his melodious voice, eyes never flickering away from the dancing fire.

"If you don't get back when you're expected to, Draco's going to get hell from Mum."

"He was really worried about you." Peter added, tapping the glass.

"Is she back yet?"

"No. She's staying at work for a few more hours. She'll be back in the morning she says."

"I see. Well, sorry for making the lot of you worry. It won't happen again."

Mac waved his apology off.

"Don't go telling us that. Tell Draco. He was ready to yank out his hair when he noticed that you weren't back at 9. You weren't answering your phone either. 'Scared the wits out of him, it did."

Arthur hung his head shamefully and carried his bag up the stairs. As he neared the apex, he was surprised to hear soft guitar strums coming from his room. He quietly opened his door to find Draco cradling his guitar, his expression unreadable. The elder let out a few chords and then allowed his fingers to drop, a finally note vibrating in the air.

"Where were you?"

"With friends."

"The same kids from yesterday?"

"Yeah. Why?" His tone was defiant, prideful even.

Draco yawned, setting the guitar aside and standing.

"Don't go out this late with them. They're hooligans."

"They are _not!"_ The blonde exclaimed, insulted. Draco strongly objected.

"Yes they are. Watch them get kicked out of school for misconduct or some pregnancy problem."

Arthur swore when he realized that Draco's referring to Elizaveta. Fire in his eyes, he tried to push his older brother out, but Draco wouldn't budge.

"Arthur's hanging out with retards and whore-."

"Shut up Draco! Get out you drunk ass bastard!"

Draco only continued his songs, pissing Arthur off even more. The younger began to yell at the red head, swearing, insulting and verbally abusing Draco in every way he knew how.

"You bloody idiot! Feck off! Jealous 'cause you don't have friends ginger?" He exclaimed as he finally managed to push Draco beyond the threshold.

"What the hell happened to Alfred? He was a good lad and you suddenly abandoned him!"

"What do you know?" Arthur's voice held nothing but venom. "You always tried to scare him off too. You knew full well that he was frightened of Mum's snakes but you brought them out whenever he came over!"

"At least he ain't some friggin' who-!" 

"_Shut. The. Hell. UP!" _

"_Arthur!"_

His fist was held in place, hovering mere centimeters before Draco's face. Gently, Jonlowered the fist back down to Arthur's side.

"Keep yer head. Calm yourself. Take a moment's reprieve okay? If you want dinner, I'll make it for you."

Arthur shook his head.

"It's fine. We ate at the Food Court." He loosened Jon's hold and walked into his room, slamming his door closed behind him.

He tore open his backpack and threw all of his clothing out. When his fingers slipped along a smooth, case, he pulled that item out, but didn't toss it.

"If Patrick Stump or Andy Hurley can't help me now, then they're all in for a bitch-fest tomorrow morning." He muttered, standing up.

His CD player was right where he left it, on his bedside table. With a faltering smile, he removed _Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge _and let _From Under The Cork Tree_ take over.

_Brothers and sisters put this record down__  
><em>_Take my advice ('cause we are bad news)__  
><em>_We will leave you high and dry__  
><em>_It's not worth the hearing you'll lose_

He thought the riffs for _Helena _were good, but Joe Trohman really impressed him. His fingers itched and his eyes flickered over to his guitar lying against the white carpet.

The neck of his guitar was as comforting as he last remembered it. The body against his lap wasn't heavy at all. The correct notes didn't fly out of the strings easily, but he came close, singing softly as his fingers pressed and stroke. His anger towards Draco was successfully defused, but a new problem quickly arose with the ring of his cell phone.

'_Do u hve an idea fr ur tattoo yt?~I iz awzome!'_

'_Gil?'_ He tapped out frantically, after he paused the song.

'_Who els culd it b?_

'_How, may I ask, did you get my number?'_

'_Francis."_

That frog….

'_I see.'_

'_Wll, did u?"_

'_Did I what?'_

'_Gt n idea yt?'_

Arthur's fingers hovered over the textpad of his sidekick.

'_Still thinking. I've got one idea though.'_

'_No Brit flag.'_

'_Then I'll keep thinking.'_

'_Wait, we may b able 2 use tht idea. Sleep it off. I'l c u tom. L8ter.'_

'_Night.'_

Arthur set his phone away and strummed his guitar a bit more, before deciding it was time for him to take a shower. He received quite a fright, almost jumping out of his black boxers and towel, when he found Mac outside his door, listening intently with Valor in his arms.

"I just wanted to hear you play and all! You does it so rarely that I thought you gave up!" The elder explained, red all over his face.

"If you want, I'll play anything you like whenever you make your _Colcannon _dish. I'll play right after dinner if you make that for me. It's delicious. One of the few things you can actually cook right."

Mac grinned. "Yes sir! I'll make it when it's my turn to cook up dinner then! Oh, could you play that song you were strumming just now? I rather liked the tune of it."

"Sure. I'll have to do that tomorrow though."

His brother nodded and continued on his way while Arthur sprinted into the bathroom before Peter could walk in.

"Go and use Mum's."

"But I need to pee!"

"Start wearing diapers then!"

Peter stuck out his tongue peevishly and Arthur mimiced him, his eyes a bit more demonic. Frightened, Peter was quick to speed away.

When Arthur caught his appearance in the mirror, he's a bit impressed. His hair definitely looked different. In a good way of course. The dye made its eternal state of messiness attractive. His stomach looked leaner too. Antonio really did know what to do with him. His abs were a bit more toned. He didn't have a six pack of course, but he was getting there. He wasn't just flesh and bones anymore. His arms were more meaty and his shoulders broader. He really needed to thank the Spaniard and Italian for their dishes and workout sessions. Maybe he could finally hold his own against Draco?

'_Or not,'_ He thought as a certain red head broke the door handle and barged in, towel wrapped around his waist.

"The hell are you-? ARGH!" He screamed as Draco threw him over his bare shoulder and carried him out.

"Don't even try Pete," The ginger tossed back as the young boy attempted to sneak his way into the unoccupied bathroom.

Arthur was thrown onto his bed and Draco was quick to take up the bathroom. The British boy groaned when his lower back began to throb.

Some things never change.

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-Sorry, I was supposed to get this out yesterday. But I had a performance. I can't guarantee that it won't happen again, but I apologize in advance for when it does.

Arthur. Arthur. Arthur. I'm really uneasy about his character development. I don't want him to rush into being a punk, but I don't want to take it too slow either. What do you guys think? Is the pacing okay?

I think I'll simply refer to Romano as Romano from now on. Originally, his name was supposed to be Romano Lovino Vargas for this fic, with his best friends being able to call him Lovino, but there was a bit of confusion about that. I sincerely apologize for any misunderstandings!

Thanks for all the faves, alerts, and reviews! I got a lot more when I changed my summary. I guess short and sweet really does work huh? Until next Friday my dear readers!


	6. 5:Of All the Gin Joints in All the World

_**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Hetalia, Tyra Banks, America's Next Top Model, Oprah, Queen Latifah, Converse, Fall Out Boy, or Kelly Clarkson.

_**Chapter 5: Of All the Gin Joints In All the World**_

"Yo, dude, Francis has this _crazy_ obsession with Tyra Banks."

"Really? You're bloody kidding me!"

"It's all legit. If the bastard misses one episode of America's Next Top Model, he'll bitch and whine for the entire week."

Arthur laughed into his cell phone.

Romano was a total riot! The Italian had texted him last night, reminding him of their meeting, and they carried out a full-blown conversation of totally random topics until midnight.

Around 7, the freshman had called, reciting a good morning with Antonio. While Arthur got ready, they chatted about little things. Arthur liked the teen's sarcasm and dark sense of humor. Not to mention all the stories about Francis and co.

"He impersonates her all the time. But Gil's worse."

"Gil likes Tyra Banks?"

"Nah man. Queen Latifah."

"What?"

"Then Antonio loves Oprah. It's, like, crazy."

"What's up with the Bad Touch Trio and famous black woman?" Arthur inquired picking up a pair of jeans to change into.

"You should see how they get when they hear Kelly Clarkson on the radio."

"Sounds frightening."

"_Arthur Kirkland! I've been calling you for how many…!"_

Holly found her usually timid, socially awkward son trying on _black skinny jeans_ and a _t-shirt_ in front of a mirror with a _sports bag_ at his side and _talking _on the phone while _laughing._

"Honey, what in God's name are you doing?"

"Dressing?"

"W-What happened to your dress pants? Your button downs? W-Wha-?"

"It's the new style Mrs. K."

To make matters worse, in walked Francis Bonnefoy, cheshire cat grin and all.

"Really now?"

"Oui, mademoiselle. Only the finest. It's all the rage in London and Paris. Even major designers in New York City have heard about this fresh new look. And you know how the Americans are. Always 8 hours behind."

The blonde was an amazing actor. The Drama Club had to value him. With a flamboyant hand gesture, the teen's arm was wrapped around Arthur's shoulders. Ever graceful, he took Arthur's cell.

"We'll be there in a couple minutes mon ami."

"Where are you boys going?"

"Just down to the school to meet some friends."

"Friends? Arthur?"

"Mum!"

The woman smiled. She was absolutely bewildered. (You could tell by the way her fingers were twitching.) But if her anti-social son had friends, then perhaps the sudden change was for the best. Besides, he didn't look uncomfortable in the new clothes.

"Have fun sweetie! Do you boys want breakfast before you head out?"

"May I have a slice of bread and-?"

"Non, mon ami. No white bread. Toni says it's bad. We'll eat out Mam. Please don't trouble yourself."

She gave the two a look and then brushed her hair back.

"Make sure you're safe Artie."

"Sure mum."

As soon as the two blondes left, already bickering about some football match, Holly marched right into her eldest son's room.

"Draco!"

The red head thrashed, looking about confusedly, making her roll her eyes. At least he was a light sleeper.

"Arthur has new clothes that I most certainly did not buy as well as new friends he can talk on the phone and laugh with. Tell me all you know and then follow them to make sure he is not getting into anything shady."

It didn't take long for pine green eyes to light up deviously. A maniacal grin on his face, the man grabbed his cell phone off his bedside table.

"I'll tell you everything. But I'll have someone else follow them. Got it Màthair?"

He didn't wait for Holly's affirmative. His fingers automatically dialed the number of the high school student who would love to dig out any local gossip:

_Feliks __Łukasiewicz_

_-S.S.C.O.T.Y-_

_"Run skinny ass child run!"_

_"Ugh, shut up Romano."_

_"You bitch. I was trying to be more encouraging."_

_"Encouraging my arse."_

_"You two seem close." Antonio stated with a grin. Arthur glared at the Italian, who leered right back. But neither could stop the smile growing on their faces._

_"Me? And British prick over there? Naw."_

_The 'British prick' dropped to his knees when he finished his last lap._

_"Likewise. Romano is way too much of a whiny wanker for me.'_

_"Hey-!"_

_"Alright. Alright. Go take a shower Arthur. We're done for today. Romano, you set up."_

_The blonde staggered toward the men's room. When he approached Francis, who was sitting on the edge of the bleachers, he caught him by the shoulder._

_"So…Tyra Banks huh?"_

_"Sacrebleu! Who told you? It was Romano wasn't it?"_

_With a wild laugh, Arthur tossed a red-faced Francis a crude remark and his favorite freshman a warning. Once he disappeared into the boy's locker room, Francis quickly turned to Romano._

_"How are __**you**__ closer to Arthur than __**moi**__? And why would you tell him about my-uh-__**issues**__?"_

_The Italian shrugged, picking up a water bottle._

_"We just talked ponytail-boy."  
>Self-consciously, the teen nudged his white hair tie.<em>

_"Maman said it made me look sexy." He murmured just as Romano began,_

_"He's not too much of a dick, I guess. Once he lets loose, he gives some real smart ass remarks. If he were more himself instead of a __gentleman__ all the time, I would trust him to play pranks on oblivious civilians. That's it though. We're not friends or anything like that."_

_Antonio snorted._

_"Uh-huh. __Sure __Roma."_

_"Look, maman's here!"_

_With a scowl and flip of her flaxen hair, Elizaveta fixed Francis with a glare so hot even the Italian could feel it._

_"I am not your second mother Franny. Stop it."_

_"You let Matthieu call you mommy."_

_"But not you. So where's my little Artie?" Green eyes looked frantically for her self-proclaimed 'British brother'._

_"Showering. Madrecita, donde esta Gil?"_

_The girl kicked the Spaniard, setting his shin afire. She took his piece of toast and muttered,_

_"Don't know. Don't care. Roderich's coming in about ten minutes though."_

_"Why exactly are you here?"_

_"To see what Arthur's going to get as a tattoo."_

_"I hope I don't get anything too extreme. Mum would hang me if I did."_

_Aforementioned teen walked out, wet towel hanging around his bare shoulders. With a grunt, he collapsed next to Elizaveta._

_"Working with Antonio really has toned your abs mon chere."_

_"Stop drooling and give me my shirt back Francis."_

_After he threw his shirt on, he lifted a premade cup of tea (courtesy of Romano) to his lips and grinned as he regarded the girl, mischief bright in the eyes that reminded the teen of her own._

_"Top of the morning to ye' __Mummy__."_

_"Oh haha. Very funny __testvér._"

"What?"

"It means brother."

"_No need to fear! His Prussian Awesomeness is here!"_

"Yay! Gil's here! Now we can all laugh at someone that's actually funny!"

The albino promptly flipped Elizaveta off. After a short butt wiggle dance, he sat right on Francis's lap.

"Your boyfriend's out-I swear Franny. If your hand brushes my junk one more time I will burn your fingers off."

"It was an accident!"

"It didn't look like much of an accident to me eh."

"M-Matthew!" The blonde gave Francis one long look, then stared at the hand on Gilbert's waist.

"Your hands look mighty frail, eh. Fragile enough to be broken by-_I don't know_- a hockey stick maybe?"

His smile grew, curls falling over his slightly pink cheeks. Any stranger would think he was cute. But the others looked at him with eyes wide open and blood running cold.

"Fuck man, Mattie's pissed off! Get the hell away from Gilbert Franny! Before he goes all _Ivan-The-Enforcer_ on us!"

"Gilbert be a good ol' chap and console him or something before we all face a crisis."

The albino said a silent prayer, swallowed the lump in his throat, and went into the danger zone. Relieved, the others watched as he played with the Canadian's hair and drew circles on his back, whispering softly. Antonio shuddered.

"Matthew is so frickin scary. Like a bipolar demon."

"You don't know the half of it. You should have seen him at the dinner party of-."

"07?" Francis questioned. After Arthur nodded, he grimaced.

"It was horrendous. He just so happened to 'drop' his hockey stick on Alfred leg after he took the last biscuit."

"If I recall correctly, he 'accidentally' shaved the back of your head when you were asleep."

"Stop! We all promised never to speak about that! But, mon dieu, that dinner party was scary."

With a sharp _"Oh!"_ Romano snapped his fingers.

"That's right! That damn party is today! The barbecue!"

"Le gasp! And you did not invite moi? Even though I am the best chef out of all of us?"

"I did invite you. All of you."

Antonio's nose crinkled as he struggled to remember. Once he found nothing within the depths of his mind, he pouted and pointed an accusing finger at the Italian.

"No you didn't Roma! You fib!"

"I did invite you bastards, damn it. I broke into your houses in the middle of some night, invaded your bedrooms, and whispered your invites into your ears while you were asleep."

"…That's not creepy at all Romano."

"I'm serious Mami. I've got one of your lacy bras to prove it too. C-cup huh? Nice."

"That is so fucking creepy. Like, Francis level creepy." The freshman shrugged off the comment and took his backpack upon his shoulder.

"Don't come. We're going to have much more fun dancing and eating without you. Besides, Roderich's saved you so much food."

Grinning cheekily, Antonio turned to Arthur to explain.

"That's his way of saying: _'You're all welcome to come. I can teach you to dance and there'll be lots of food. Which I'm sure you'll need because Roderich's being a fat ass and consuming most of the food. And I love how sexy Antonio's curls look in this fluorescent lig-_. Ow! I was just joking Roma!"

To confirm this, the Brit turned to look at the Austrian. Roderich wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, cup of tea in hand, and gave the blonde a curt nod.

"Good morning Roderich."

"Same to you Arthur."

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Yes, very much so."

"That's good."

"A-hem. Before we go anywhere, I trust that you have _it_ Gil."

All present turned to the albino expectantly. With a curious interest, Arthur watched as the delinquent pulled something from under his hoodie. A sketchbook, to be precise.

"Franny told me that you have a zoo for a household. Then Mattie told me about your lion-cat-pet-wild-animal thing-." "Valor." He asserted as his friend began flipping through pages.

"Yeah. And they both started telling me 'bout how much you loved that thing."

"Actually, Al told me then I told Gil."

"_And then,_" He gave Matthew a look. "I came up with _this_."

Fingers stopped flipping through thin sheets of color, Arthur gasped, heart pausing for a bit. During his time with Francis's friends, he had heard much about Gilbert's artistic ability, and even saw the small doodles he created on napkins. But he never guessed the teen was _that_ good. Good enough for Arthur to not mind the thought of the albino's art etched into his skin.

"I-It's-I…Wow."

"Rendered speechless by my awesomeness. Don't worry. It's happened to everyone I know."

Indeed, he was speechless. But by the details of the drawing before him rather than Gilbert himself. It was the typical coat of arms lion that dyed the paper before him, caught in mid roar. It's mane flowed freely, every last feature capture by black ink. Out of the mane flowed a scroll that surrounded the lion's feet. It was the flag of England that took over the scroll. Valor's name was written inside the flag in beautiful calligraphy. But Arthur's favored addition was the crown resting on its head. The silver of the head ornament looking stunning against the dark lion. But the simplicity of the crown stood apart from the rest, making it seem as if it were a tattoo he received later just to compliment the lion.

"It's going to be a bitch for your first tattoo. Especially all the details and shit. Uh, we can make it more simple if you wanna."

Emerald green met ruby reds.

"It's perfect. When and where can I get it?"

The last thing Arthur Kirkland expected was for Gilbert Beilschmidt to blush a vibrant red and turn away.

"U-Uh, I was thinking upper arm or shoulder blade area."

"Wait, Gil, what about stretching? What if he grows fatter as he gets older?"

"I actually have an extremely fast metabolism. Not to mention the fact that I've only gained and then lost 3 pounds since 7th grade. I'm not really a heavy eater. Don't even get me started on my height."

"Ha! Kirkland's a midget!"

"I'm taller than you Vargas."

"Never mind that. How are you two going to get it legally? I don't think your mother is going to let you get a tattoo eh. She freaked out when Draco got a piercing. And those aren't even permanent. Not to mention the money it'll cost."

Arthur smirked deviously, and for a second, the Bad Touch Trio saw a bit of themselves in his eyes.

"I can pay for it. I already have my entire college fund set aside, so between work and allowance, I should have $200 bucks in a month or two. And if Mum doesn't want me to have a tattoo, then I suppose I'll have to sneak off like Draco did. This actually means something to me."

"How so?"

Arthur lay flat on his back and glared up at the ceiling as if it were to blame.

"Valor's being sent back to Europe this year so he can 'mate' and join 'his true society'."

"Well he had to get laid eventually."

"His name means 'bravery'. And that's exactly what he brought me. The confidence to stand up and fight against all the bullocks whether it be my brothers…or the eighth grade bully that was Francis."

"Hehe…Je suis desole."

The Brit ignored the apology.

"It'll be nice to have something to remind me to keep the courage. And the tattoo will last longer than photos or writing or perhaps even my own memory."

"Yes but your mother-."

Romano slammed his hand down on a bench, commanding attention.

"I'm leaving damn it! Decide on what you're going to do till next week for all I care! And don't drag your sorry asses to my family's party."

Antonio leaned into Arthur's space. "That's his way of saying: _We're leaving. Decide on this next week. We have to hurry if we don't want to miss the party. Antonio, I think you have a really cute bu-."_

"Romano, you could just say that you wish for us to attend your luncheon."

"Tch…bastards."

"_Mon dieu._ Fine then Roma. The BTT and company will attend your whatever it is."

"Fuck yeah party! I hope there's cake!"

"I hope Roma makes cookies!"

"I hope I don't have to hit either of you with a frying pan before we get there."

"Calm down, eh. There's no need for a frying pan…when you can use a hockey stick."

"B-Birdie?"

The group slowly gathered their things and left. As Arthur approached the exit, his ears caught something peculiar.

"_Shh! Tori, we'll get caught!"_

Alarmed his head whipped around. Francis, seeing this act, gave him a look that read_ worry_.

"Are you alright?"

"Y-Yeah. Suppose I'm just hearing things."

"It's not the first time for you. What was it that you used to see in fifth grade? Ah yes, _flying mint bunny?"_

"Shut your trap."

When the exiting door had finally closed, the hallways were silent. Until 2 pairs of green eyes peeked out of a custodian's closet.

"_Like, Tori, I totally think they're gone."_

"_They said they were going to Feliciano's barbecue."_

A perky blonde jumped out of the closet, a grin on his face. He dusted off his light pink t-shirt, whilst saying,

"And Arthur's is, like, planning on getting a tattoo."

A brown haired teen followed after him, dark green jacket bringing out his eyes in the little sun they had.

"Do we call Draco now?" Toris Laurinaitis asked.

"No," said Feliks Łukasiewicz.

"We need to call Al first."

There, within that hallway, a plot started; a plan that would surely end in tears, heartbreak and envy.

~S.S.C.O.T.Y~

"Romano! You're late! And you…you brought friends!"

A bubbly brunette answered when they rang. With eyes as golden as her son's, Luisa Vargas looked at the group with nothing but excitement.

"Good Afternoon Mrs. Vargas!" they chorused.

"Hello boys…and Elizaveta."

As they filed in, she beamed and gave each an individual greeting.

"Antonio_, figlio mio_, Romano and Feli made cookies. They are in the backyard."

"Grazie Mama Vargas!"

Grinning like a madman, the Spaniard darted through the mansion. Gilbert tried to sneak after him, but he was caught by his collar.

"If you break anything again Gilbert, I will kill you. Multiple times."

"Yes mam!"

"Roderich, Feli made tea. It's right by the pastries. Oh, and Romano thought you might like pancakes Matthew."

"Mama!" Luisa tapped her son on the nose.

"Shush! Go help your friends! Francis, we tried to make chicken like you showed us. Could you taste it? I'm not sure whether we prepared it right."

"It would be my pleasure."

"Elizaveta, Feli and Ludwig are upstairs. You know what you must do." The girl raised her camera, cackling evilly. Pride took Luisa as she looked over the girl as she slunk up the steps.

"And…oh, who is this?"

Timidly, Arthur stared at his Converse.

"Arthur Kirkland."

"So you're the one who he's been talking to. Well, as Antonio says, _'Mi casa es su casa.'_. Enjoy yourself okay?"

"U-Uh, thank you madam." A burst of red spread across his face as the woman kissed him on both cheeks.

"Please, don't mind Roma. He gets into such a mood sometimes. But he seems to like you so you won't see his bad side too often." "He's…a great friend. One of my closer ones actually. And that occurred overnight." Luisa grinned.

"_Stupefacente!"_

"I beg your pardon?"

" 'Amazing' is what I said in Italian. Romano can't open up to people until 5 months after he's met them. The only exceptions are Eliza and Toni. Oh, I must tell Giotto about this! Enjoy the party Arturo!"

As red as Antonio's favored tomatoes, he strolled in, too embarrassed to notice the majestic, grand estate, let alone the scuff marks he was leaving on the white tiles. He couldn't look Romano in the eye when he reached the backyard. In fact, he kept as far away from him as possible, flitting about Matthew, Roderich, Gilbert and even Ludwig as the day wore on. At one point, however, he was found out. Romano chose to make him aware of this by throwing a soda can at his head.

"Blimey! Are you mad?"

" 'Course Skinny Bitch. You've been ignoring me the whole day, even though I was the one that allowed you to come."

"No I haven't."

"Yes, you have. But not anymore. C'mere Skinny Bitch. I will teach you how to dance."

"W-Wha?"

The Italian grabbed his hand, and drew him to the center of all the action, where people were jumping, fist-pumping and screaming.

"Watch me and remember everything. There's some really quick steps to this song."

"I can't Roma. I'll look like a bloody fool."

"You always look like a fool Kirkland. But if you don't do whatever the hell I say, I'll make you look even stupider."

Arthur didn't scold the freshman for his poor grammar. Aware of his history teacher's eyes on him, he kept his gaze directed at the dirt.

"Just do what I do. It's easy if you make it easy."

Slowly, Romano taught him the steps, and then picked up the pace as the song got faster. It was hard to bend his knees in his jeans, and he was sure that he looked awkward next to the Italian. But, sometime around when the two screwed the routine up and improvised with the Charlie Brown, all of his insecurities were forgotten. Arthur didn't know when the smile crept up to his face, or how he managed to fall into step with the freshman. But screw it. He was having fun. Until Vargas flipped him backwards through the air. Of course, the fact that he landed on his two feet shocked him more than the launch.

"Damn Artie! You killed it!" Romano jumped on him in a tight embrace, which he didn't fail to return whole-heartedly.

"What did I kill exactly?"

"Shut up you cheeky, little, whore! _Mio Dio_, I'm so proud of you!"

"Ve~!"

"Oh hell."

Feliciano was the exact opposite of his brother. Despite their similar looks, their personalities were like day and night. Feli, Arthur decided, would be the sun shining in the day. His smile and the glow in his light brown eyes spoke volumes.

"That was amazing Arthur! Did fratello teach you?"

"He taught me everything up to the end." The Brit gave the stingier Italian a look, but Romano glare past him, toward his approaching parents.

"Romano my darling, that was-!"

"Yeah, I know mom. Come on skinny bitch."

Already accustomed to his new nickname, Arthur sped away with the dancer, retreating deep into the high garden hedges. By the time the sight of the party was blocked from their view, their pace had slowed. The flowers growing in the garden was to be appreciated, a task Arthur took on willingly. Whoever took care of the gardens really seemed to have a love for the plants. He, a common gardener, could find no fault.

"Oh, uh, Antonio comes by sometimes to help my mom with the gardening. He really helps with the olives and the fig trees."

Almost lazily, the Italian sat on a stone bench, adorned with cherubs, plucked a tomato and bit, juices trailing down his chin.

"You seem annoyed."

"I don't usually dance in front of family. I mean, I want them to notice me, but they only seem to comment on it as soon as everyone else praises me. I prefer dancing with strangers. Their comments are more…genuine y'know?"

"He has no problem with us though!" Antonio appeared from behind an apple tree, the rest following with various fruits and flora in their hands.

"Che. Should've known you bastards would follow us."

"Ignoring that statement~! Believe it or not, Roma loves us Artie."

"Fuck no I don't!" Gilbert tittered, the act made comical by the crown of tulips in his hair.

"Last time I checked, you willingly chose to become a Sophomore Slump."

Arthur's questioning look was met with a quick explanation from Matthew, who materialized by a rose bush.

"It's our group's official name."

"_The Sophomore Slumps_: Friends that are outcasts, infamous, or associated with someone that pertains to the two."

Elizaveta's sharp intake of breath, drew all eyes to her figure. She pointed a finger at Arthur, staring him down.

"We still need to make you a Sophomore Slump."

"P-Pardon?" The garden was silent as the others stared at the Brit. He gulped as Veneciano's laugh was carried through the air.

"Do you _want _to be one of us Kirkland?"

Gilbert was the one to ask the question on everyone's mind. Arthur expected himself to hesitate, to think about the offer and what it entailed. How it may affect him and Alfred's friendship. If he hadn't grown in the time that he was with the group, he would've been reluctant to be considered a member of the same group as Francis and friends. But he had grown attached. And the part of his heart that grew attached took over the rest in mere seconds. And so, without a single doubt in his mind, the answer that left Arthur's mouth was,

"Yes."

Shoulders relaxed and bated breaths released. An almost joyous feeling engulfed all but Roderich. Navy blue eyes met his with nothing but concern.

"I'm glad you feel that way, but kissing Francis is part of the initiation."

At this piece of information, the hesitation took over in crashing waves. Seeing this, Antonio jumped into action.

"We're not going to force you or anything. You'll still get to hang out with us even if you don't join. But we won't have to-."

"Let's just get it over with."

"E-Eh?"

The quarter of his heart that grew attached was a fighter. And a wise one at that. It took over Arthur's mouth before hesitation could let an objection break through.

"Let's just get on with it. If I hang out with Alfred's group, I'll feel left out because I'm not a jock. And if I hang out with your group, I'll feel left out because I'm not a Sophomore whatever. At least you lot are giving me a chance. I'm not allowed near the football team. Besides, I'm feeling reckless."

That piece of his heart better learn how to **stop talking**.

"Broski, you're totally awesome!"

Gilbert jumped onto Arthur, sending them both crashing to the floor. As Gil screamed and ranted into his ear, he looked up at Francis challengingly.

"You don't have to do anything mon ami."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Dudes, Franny doesn't want to kiss Arthur! It's like the frickin apocalypse!"

"Shut up Gil."

"People!" Once again, Elizaveta commanded all eyes on her. "Can we start please? Gil, get off of Arthur. Does anyone remember or have the vows saved on their phone?"

"I have them dearest."

"Woohoo! Nice going Big Daddy!"

"...Never refer to me like that again."

The girl arranged her shorts and pulled up her knee socks before putting up her hoodie for a dramatic effect. To complete her act, in a low voice, she ordered,

"_Come forth Arthur Kirkland of Great Brittania."_

He masked an amused smirk with a couth look as he stepped forward. The others, aside from Francis and Roderich, sat on the ground in a line. Each watched the proceedings with great interest.

"Doth thou truly wish to become a member of our fine infamous group?"

"Yes."

"Are there any interrogations before the ceremony begins?"

"Why a kiss?" Elizaveta gave him a wry grin.

"A kiss is supposed to represent an eternal bond. It doesn't necessarily pertain to romantic feelings. It's more of a way to show trust and comfort with a person by Sophomore Slump definition. Gilbert kisses us all the time. He usually doesn't mean anything romantic by it."

"It's a wonder he doesn't get mono." Romano muttered.

"Anymore questions?"

"No mam."

"Then these vows you shall recite, pray that God shall answer your plight."

That being said, she and Roderich switched places. The Austrian offered a shaky smile, before picking up where she left off.

"Your response is: I do. If you disagree with any vow, the response is: I do not. Disagreeing with any vow will result in banishment. There shall be no talking during the vow ceremony."

Roddy shot Gil and Romano a look. '_Sorry Dad.'_ they mouthed. His nostrils flared before he turned back to Arthur.

"Once interrogated, do you vow to reply to the Sophomore Slumps with only the truth?"

"I do."

"Do you vow to live out these promises for all eternity?"

"I do."

"Do you vow to remain loyal and respectful to each member regardless of personal issues?"

"I do." Arthur said firmly when glances were cast between him and Francis.

"Do you vow to settle any arguments with a fellow member as soon as possible, if not the same day, and carry no grudges?"

"I do."

"_Bullshit,"_ Antonio coughed into his hand. Elizaveta threw a stone.

"Do you vow to shelter, clothe and feed a fellow member should the situation arise?"

That was a strange one. Suddenly, all eyes bore into Arthur's figure. Even Francis, who was reverently staring at the ground, glanced up.

"Of course. I mean, I do." He said, bewildered.

"_I kind of want to have a sleepover at Artie's house."_

"_Yeah broski! Then we'll have a lion guarding us while we sleep!"_

"_Or eating us."_

"Beilschmidt and Vargas, I am not afraid to remove you from the premises."

"No way bastard! I want to see Skinny Bitch kiss Ponytail-Boy!"

"Then be quiet!" After looking apologetic, Roderich continued.

"Do you vow to laugh, cry and speak freely in front of all members?"

"I do."

"Do you vow to comfort any member in need, without exception?"

"I do," the teen replied hastily, before they all stared at him and Francis again.

"Lastly, do you vow to remain like family to each member, no matter the circumstances?"

"I do." The pianist looked to the group as a whole.

"Are there any statements or objections pertaining to Arthur Kirkland's entrance into the Sophomore Slumps?"

A heady albino opened his mouth.

"Gil if one dumbass remark leaves your jaws, I will cut out your tongue."

"Mein Gott Roddy! I just wanted to know if we could show him to HQ today." The Austrian sighed.

"We'll discuss that later. Anything else?"

No one said a word.

"Very well then. Arthur Kirkland, to prove your worth you may kiss the founder."

Roderich switched places with Francis abruptly. When he looked into his old enemy's face, he expected to find self-satisfaction, a mocking sneer, or a sense of perverse triumph. What he found instead was a startling coolness and sophistication. An essence of professionalism even.

"It takes courage and strength to swallow your pride. For this, I commend you."

"If Matthew can kiss his own cousin, then I should not have a problem." Francis graced him with an impressed grin. The Brit was about to make another comment but his lips were caught too quickly for that. Surprisingly, the other didn't try anything like biting or tongue. He remained immobile, stiff even. Arthur wouldn't have known he was there if it weren't for the pulsing warmth.

"You two have to hold that for 20 seconds for it to count."

He heard snapping and was almost sure Elizaveta was taking photos. He was glad he had his eyes closed. He didn't want to be known as the freak that kept his eyes open while kissing. But this relief was short-lived, because someone came stomping through the hedges just as 18 seconds passed.

"Haha! Sup dudes? Feli told me that Arthur wo-! Whoa!"

Arthur ripped away from Francis to find Alfred F. Jones standing in his baggy jeans, favorite American Eagle hoodie, and black Nikes. With a fondness, he looked over the black and red plaid boxers peeking out from his waistline (a habit the Brit often criticized him for) and mussed blonde hair. But it was the wide saucers of blue staring back at him that really got to him. Al's eyes had always been the one feature to betray his emotions, and there was a considerable amount of hurt swirling in those sky blues.

"Al, I-."

"Was I interrupting something? I_ was_ interrupting something. Sorry, just came to say hi. Later Kirkland."

Kirkland? Al never called him Kirkland. No matter how many times he pretended to hate them, the athlete always called him by a nickname of some sort.

"Wait, Alfred! Alfred!" He was ready to jump after the boy, but he was restrained.

"Trust me. You need to give him time. Let him go for now."

"How would you know?" Arthur barked at Elizaveta.

"You're not the first case we've worked with. Every time someone runs off like this and their lover chases them, an even bigger fight erupts that destroys their relationship completely. L'amour is a complicated thing." Dark blues shifted to Arthur. "Watch that temper. It could kill people."

Immediately, he felt remorse. The girl was only trying to help. Shoulders sagging, he leaned into Elizaveta's tight embrace.

"I'm sorry."

"_Ez rendben_. It's okay. Calm down. Give him an hour or two to do the same."

"We can't let you chase him yet. My plot has to thicken first. At one point, he'll have to decide between you and Tino." Francis grinned almost savagely. "This is simply prep."

Gilbert jumped up.

"Oi! Let's kill this unawesome mood! Arthur just became a Sophomore Slump! I say we party at HQ!"

Romano raised his hand.

"I agree. SB needs a distraction."

"I'm in if Romano's in!"

"I suppose I was going to Gil's house anyway, eh. I never want to deal with Alfred when he's in a bad mood."

"Then it is settled. We shall hold festivities at Sophomore Slump Headquarters to celebrate Arthur's initiation!"

"And it will be way better than the party my parents' are throwing!"

Arthur nodded along to each statement, but his eyes kept drifting to where Alfred had disappeared. Sighing, he loosened his hold on Elizaveta.

Oh how he hoped he was making the right choices.

_-S.S.C.O.T.Y-_

And after losing my laptop, falling ill, and suffering from summer laziness. I finally have most of this fic figured out and this chapter finished! Punk! Arthur is basically in full force after this and we have a lot of USUK scenes to pick up. Please excuse the FrUK. I kind of wanted to show that Francis was more of a gentlemanly lover rather than a serial rapist. (Who knew?) Which is kind of necessary for him to be good friends with Arthur. But, alas, next chapter will *spoiler alert* focus on Alfie for the first part. Please bear with the incoming onslaught of angst and fights.

Comments on this chapter:

It was shorter than most. I apologize. I wanted to get material out badly.

And as for Matthew, my head canon states that every cold country has some sort of anger issue. Russia is...Russia. England's raining issue results in him being a total tsundere. Norway and Iceland abuse Denmark. It all makes sense. Mattie's rage is kind of complicated though. I think he just does a complete 180 and turns into a gangster when he's pissed off. *shrugs* Head canon is a strange thing.

Lastly, 14 reviews for the last chapter! Thanks for the support guys! I'll do my best to deliver a good fic. Critiques, no matter how cold, always help. Until next week my lovely readers!


	7. 6:You Only Hold Me Up Like This

_**Disclaimer:**_I do not own Hetalia, Paul Reed Smith Guitars, Ibanez guitars, 'Single Ladies'-Beyonce, Titanic, any of the mentioned music artists, The Lion King, or Kingdom Hearts.

_**Chapter 6: You Only Hold Me Up Like This 'Cause You Don't Know Who I Really Am**_

**Francis. **He was losing Arthur to _**Francis**_.

Angrily, Alfred Franklin Jones shoved his fists in his pockets and stomped through his city. His blonde locks were tucked under his hoodie, which hid most of his face. For once, he wasn't parading with his usual confident swagger. It was more of a moody, anti-social trudge that brisk afternoon.

He left Feliks and Toris back at Feli's party. He couldn't stand to be with them when they were happy, lest his attitude spoil their mood. Especially after he saw…_Ugh._ His thoughts swirled like a raging tornado, blocking out the whispers of conversation surrounding him.

What did the frenchie have that he didn't? Their hair was the same color…kind of. So what if Francis had a sexy-ass ponytail? It made him look like a chick! Alfred had a charming boyish mop, like a prince out of a fairytale. His eyes were lighter too. Francis's irises were the color of the sea: mysterious, cold, and deceptive. Alfred's eyes were _made_ of the sky: clear, deep, and friendly. He was definitely more attractive.

How could Arthur just…just kiss _**Francis**_ out of the blue? He didn't tell Alfred anything about crushing on the guy! They were best friends! Best friends told each other every-.

It was the stubble.

The little flecks of blonde on his step-cousin's chin. That's what drew Arthur to him. It was what pulled in all the girls. They all loved Francis's chin. Where was he supposed to get a mini-beard from? Every time he grew even a centimeter of facial hair, someone would sneak into his room at night and shave it all off. (He strongly suspected Matthew of slipping sleep pills in his water, but he had no proof.)

But Alfred was a fifteen year old Leonardo DiCaprio damn it! He was the_ Jack_ to Arthur's _Rose_! (He pointedly ignored the fact that his character died and left Rose to find a new husband.)

They were best friends. Tino came in, and it was the three of them. Okay, so maybe it was more Al and Tino, but they included Arthur when it was allowed. The plan was going smoothly, until Bonnefoy and his posse came in and messed everything up.

Not to mention the fact that Arthur was friends with Beilschmidt. Now Alfred knew the Brit had better taste than that. So the girl, the pianist and Mattie were okay. But Romano and the Bad Touch Trio? What was he thinking? That group was flippin' notorious in Hetalia High! They were criminals! They were banned from all sports teams, except for Antonio. Carriedo could play soccer only if he swore to lead their team to the championships.

He could only imagine what they were doing to Arthur. They could have forced him to kiss Francis. Or maybe they made Arthur their slave. Alfred had to save him. Tino would un-.

'_You know, I know you don't love-,'_

"I can't talk right now."

"_You sound frustrated. Is everything okay?"_

"I just need some space Tino."

"_What did I tell you to call me?"_

"I can't talk right now _'Lil T'_."

"_Aight homie. Wat's goin' down up in F.V's G-spot?"_

"…I grew up talkin' street and I cannot understand what the hell you just said."

"_I be yellin: What's shaking up F.V's crib?"_

The teen shook as tendrils of amusement tickled him. Stifled chuckles left in spurts as he struggled to respond.

_"I spent years watching movies and listening to music trying to learn how you Americans speak, and this is how you repay me?"_

"You're a dumbass Tino."

"_You're laughing Al. I can tell."_

The American covered his mouth to hide a smile. The teen always knew how to cheer Al up when he was feeling down. Maybe that's why they were so close.

"Go to Ross park dude. I need to talk to you there. Can you get there quick?"

"_Fo shizzle my nizzle."_

"Please, just stop trying dude."

He ended the call with a swipe of his finger, and then set off towards his new destination.

Tino wasn't Arthur. Tino would never be Arthur. He was freakin' hilarious when he pretended to be a rapper, especially those late night impersonations of Lil Wayne, but he wasn't as funny as Arthur when the Brit screwed up jokes and told the punch-line wrong.

…God, he needed to stop listening to Katy Perry.

As if to spite him, an advertisement for the pop star's new movie was stuck to a billboard in front of me.

"I bet you could get anyone to fall for you. You just have to stand there, look pretty and sing your heart out you-you…you Californian Barbie doll."

She just stared down at him, smile painted on her face. He frowned, eyes narrowing.

"I bet I could sing better than you. Then Arthur would like me. He'd realize I'm a much better singer than Francis could ever be and fall for my charming personality, stunning good looks, and smooth voice. Then he'd let me carry him away from evil Franny. Like a real hero. Yeah, that'll work!"

To prove his point, the boy burst into the chorus of _California Gurls_, jumping around and dancing all over the pavement. There was no one there. He was already in the quieter part of town. So he could let his angst throw him into the abyss of craziness. He sang and pranced like a mad man, expecting no one to actually hear him.

This is why the applause startled him out of his wits. He screamed-_grunted in a manly fashion_-out of surprise, heart whipping his chest.

"Alfred Franklin Jones everybody! Please, no flash photography or obnoxious requests. We are running on a tight schedule."

Alfred whipped around to find a slim teenage boy laughing at him. His violets were filled with mirth. Judging by the way his nose crinkled, the male was shielding a laugh behind his pale hand.

"Sup Tino?"

The Finnish boy grinned, radiating goodwill and joy.

"Good Afternoon to you too Al." He laughed. Tino's soft laugh never failed to put those around him at ease. No wonder Berwald liked him so much. The Swede needed all the ease he could get. You could tell just by looking at his face.

…No offense to Berwald of course.

"Nice polo." Alfred decided to hold off on the main topic for the park. Tino looked the white garment over with a small smile.

"Thanks. Ber-Bear got it for me."

The jock snorted.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just can't believe you can go from saying '_Fo shizzle my nizzle'_ to '_Ber-Bear'_."

The smaller brushed dirt off his cargo shorts then gave Alfred a wink.

"Just _keeping it real_."

"I don't know how Berwald puts up with you." The blonde ruffled the other's lighter hair, knowing how much time he spent on it every day.

"Jerk."

"So how are the in-laws?'

"Who? Norge and Jesper?"

Al rolled his eyes.

"Who else?"

"Nothing new. Senior year's driving Jes up the wall and Norge has everything under control. But, you did not want to talk about them now did you?"

By this time, they had reached the park. Tino's eyes turned serious and sympathetic as the jock began to tell his story.

_-Someone Better Make a Comeback-_

No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't make Arthur forget his troubles. The Bad Touch Trio danced to _Single Ladies_ and that didn't crack a laugh out of the blonde. He was quiet during their walk down the street. (Apparently, HQ was in the basement of the Beilschmidt's massive mansion. Why were all of them freakin' rich?) And he remained silent throughout the party, cup of ginger ale in his hand. Despite their constant prodding to loosen up, claiming that he was at home and should act as such, he stayed stiff.

Gingerly, Romano slid up to him. When the Brit didn't respond, he kicked the cup out his hand, sending it spinning through the air.

"Tell me a story SB."

"SB?" The freshman gave Matthew an exasperated look.

"_Skinny Bitch._ Tell me a story Kirkland. One about your parents. We know all the dirt on everyone's parents but yours."

The blonde didn't immediately answer, so he settled for poking him in the face with socked feet, adding an insult with each nudge.

"Whore. Bitch. Bastard. Teppista. Turd. Loser. Fuckface. Motherfucker. Fothermucker. Screw-up. Emo pr-."

"My Dad was a rock guitarist once."

The air went still. No one spoke for a few seconds, all surprised to hear Arthur speak after an entire hour of silence. Romano, glad with what he started, pressed for more.

"You've never told me about your father. What was he like? Was he a dick? Is that why you don't talk about him?"

"No. From what I remember, he was a total gentleman."

"A gentleman that was a rock guitarist," Gil nodded approvingly. "Awesome."

"I used to love watching him teach Draco. I was too young to learn then. I must have been five or six. I thought that if I watched, I would remember how to play the chords. When I was big enough to carry the guitar, I would be just as good as he was. By the time I could carry it properly, he was bedridden. He persuaded Draco to teach me though. I would learn right by his side, day after day. He would occasionally tell us stories of his days in a band back in London and the crazy things his friends did at parties. He was straight edge, while the others got completely smashed."

"That's hardcore." Antonio murmured admiringly. Elizaveta's brow furrowed.

"But, if he were straight edge, what could he be bedridden w-?"

"Lung cancer. He didn't smoke, but his friends did. And he went to visit often."

"I-I'm so sorry."

He waved her off.

"It's fine. He said that he already lived to see all five of his kids reach ten years. After he made each of us promise live our lives to the fullest, and stay far away from smokers, he didn't really have any regrets."

'_But Draco never kept his promise,_'

Once again, the silence swept them, only this time it was strained due to the pressing feeling of angst surrounding the Brit.

"You can play an _electric_ guitar right?" Antonio asked finally.

"Yeah. Why?"

A grin of pure mischief spread across the Spaniard's face. He winked five times at Francis, who gave a small nod in reply. In a flash of motion, Bonnefoy held Gilbert down while Antonio ran out of the room. Gil's face became paler as his expression became one of fear.

"Oh no! You guys wouldn't! Gilliana will kill me!"

"Who's Gilliana?"

"His sister." Romano replied, a smirk playing up his features.

He didn't smile back. Honestly, he was emotionally drained. The Alfred incident left him numb, with a mild sense of misery. But talking about his dead father sent him spiraling into depression. Honestly, all he wanted to do was go home, curl up with his headphones, and drown in music. Just like he had when he was 10. Nothing could cheer him up. Not even the beautiful guitar in front of him.

In awe, he looked over the white instrument, taking in the silver strings and bleeding heart painted on the body.

It couldn't cheer him up. But it sure as hell could distract him.

"A beautiful Paul Reed Smith SE Santana, airbrushed custom guitar, nicknamed _'White Mage'. _Can you play it?"

"Yes. Hand it over."

A chill ran over Arthur as he ran his fingertips over the body. He had never touched a PRS before. While he remained with his father's choice in the Ibanez company, he was also interested in others. He heard much praise about Paul Reed Smith guitars. Finally getting the chance to use one was thrilling.

He played a bit, looking for any signs that the instrument needed tuning. When he was content, he began to jump into a medley.

"Famous Last Words by My Chemical Romance."

Elizaveta recognized the song immediately. Giving her a small smile, he switched the song. It took a minute or two, but Romano and Antonio recognized it as the Spongebob theme. The third came easily to Gilbert.

"Blitzkrieg Bop by The Ramones."

"She Will Be Loved by Maroon Five," Matthew successfully guessed the next. Francis recognized the fifth as a song from The Fray, and then Roderich remembered the tune of _Dirty Little Secret_ from a time when Elizaveta would play it on repeat whenever she could.

The last one stumped all. Pleased with this fact, Arthur played the simple chords with a new energy. He was two minutes into the song when a voice shot from the doorway.

"London Calling by The Clash."

His fingers paused as he shot a glance at who guessed the title correctly.

Leaning against the door with an expression of pure boredom, was the female version of Gilbert.

Her skin was just as pale, clashing against the black tank top she woren. Her eyes were as vibrant, and a stunning rouge. Her waist length white hair was tamed under a baseball cap. She seemed boyish with the way she twisted the hat around. Not to mention the basketball shorts and sneakers she adorned. Her outfit was baggy, hiding any curves she may have had.

"Those are my clothes!" Gilbert exclaimed.

"That's my guitar. In the hands of a stranger."

"My name's Arthur."

"Gilliana." The woman said shortly. She fixed her brother with a look, making the boy wilt.

"Francis and Antonio did it." He said quickly. She raised an eyebrow.

"_Mein liebling Antonio?_ Never. Francis maybe."

"Ah, you still have not forgiven me for the panty raid."

She glared at the blonde.

"Would you forgive someone who stole your underwear, then had the audacity to wear and run around your house singing about the Moulin Rouge?"

"I was thirteen."

"You were stupid."

Huffing, she snatched her guitar from Arthur.

"You ain't bad kid. I'll see if I can get you a gig."

Gilliana had a certain fury in her eyes as she turned away. He was relieved to realize it was directed towards Francis instead of him. When the Frenchman was on the ground, begging for mercy, she left. She strutted, like a proud cat coming back from a successful mouse hunt. A few seconds after she disappeared, they all heard her stomp her feet on the floor above them. Franny was the only one that twitched.

"I like your sister." Arthur stated.

"She's a trip. She can hardly get along with our parents. 'Specially Dad." The albino muttered.

At the mention of a parental figure, Arthur's mood dropped once more.

"I need to go guys. I'm really tired. Thanks for the party Gil." He sighed. He scooped up his sports bag and phone, ready to run home and collapse.

After performing a series of complicated goodbye hugs, Francis was the only one who blocked his path. As they pulled into a brace, the taller whispered,

"_Lost lambs are always welcomed back home. Even if you don't choose us, we'll forgive."_

Too tired to decipher this cryptic message, he pushed past the male.

His walk home was soundless. It was just him and his thoughts. He had no idea how he was going to explain himself to Alfred.

'_It was a spur-of-the-moment thing,'_ He could say. It was the truth, but the American probably wouldn't buy that. The Arthur he knew didn't do things on impulse. Old Arthur was always calculative.

What happened to Old Arthur? He didn't disappear. New Arthur still had a majority of his habits. Perhaps the old and new blended together to create what he was. When did New Arthur appear in the first place? Was it when he agreed to the tattoo? Or when he first listened to My Chemical Romance? Perhaps it was all the way back when he first willingly stayed with the Sophomore Slumps.

He didn't regret that. No matter how much the group didn't fit Old Arthur, he wouldn't regret it. They changed him, For better or for worse, he didn't know. But they made him happy. They brought out New Arthur. Or they unleashed what that they saw under the gentleman. The teen that just wanted to have close friends instead of a monarchy of popular kids that backstabbed every chance they got. Maybe there wasn't an old or new Arthur. New Arthur could just be the true Arthur. The version of himself that he kept under wraps.

But self-analysis would have to wait. With a sigh, green eyes warily gazed at the figure dawdling around his front steps.

"Alfred."

The figure turned towards the sound. When he peered into serious blue eyes, the Brit winced. There was the feeling again; the sensation that felt as if his gut was housing millions of small birds. It came out only when the American was around. He hated it, especially the way it spread rapidly, immobilizing him and making his mouth dry.

"We need to talk." It took a second for him to snap out of his reverie. He was in danger territory. There was no time to think about brushing away the hair in Alfred's face and staring into his…The Brit cleared his throat.

"I agree."

Alfred sat on the top step, patting the space beside him to invite the teen to join him. After a second or two of silence, the jock faced him.

"What's up with you lately Arthur?"

"Nothing."

"Why-?"

"It's not what it looked like." Ooh, cliché much? Alfred's eyebrow quirked.

"What was it?"

"Nothing."

"Everything's nothing all of sudden. Why don't you just talk to me about it?"

This comment stirred up bitter emotions. Suddenly, all his pent up confusion and frustration shoved its way out of his system. He felt he was directing it all at the wrong person, but controlling it was out of the question.

"Well sorry Alfred," The Brit said sarcastically. "I figured you would be much too busy for me. You know, sports and school really takes friendship time away. Not to mention the fact that you have a boyfriend. A boyfriend that you _forgot _to tell me about."

"Is that why you've been hanging out with Gilbert and Francis?"

"I hang out with them because I want to. Why do you hang out with Tino and Vash?"

"Don't direct the conversation. We're talking about you now, not me."

"Oh really? _Finally_, a discussion about _me. _I haven't been a subject of interest for a while Al."

Arthur's voice was pure venom. His depression was anger now, and Alfred was only making it worse. That stupid throbbing in his chest and gut was all his fault, damn it! Why did Arthur have to deal with it?

The jock's patience was also wearing thin. He didn't hide malevolence as he responded,

"Well we're talking about you now. You've been avoiding me lately Arthur! You ditched me and the guys for Francis! And you randomly started wearing new clothes! And you got_ highlights!_ What happened dude? We were cool. _We_ used to run the school. Remember last year when we convinced Mrs. Carey to let us monitor her Junior class? We got major street cred. No one messes with us."

The malice was quick to break down. Alfred's voice got a bit softer as he brought up old memories. Arthur almost gave in, but his fury beat all urges.

"Yes. We. As in, me, you, and your entire sport team. And _'Used to'_. As in, we did such things before. But not now."

"Why not?" Oh how Arthur despised the way those narrowed blue eyes made him want to barf butterflies.

"Are you too busy with those guys?"

"What's wrong with _those guys_?" The Brit asked defensively. Alfred's tone was quick to turn nonchalant.

"Nothing. Except for the fact that they're all practically delinquents."

"Delinquents? This is Elizaveta we're talking about!"

"So? She's no better. She almost killed Toris with a frying pan. She's crazy."

"Do _not_ insult her. She's better than half the arses in this school."

"Am I one of those _'arses'_?"

"No. But you're getting there. Quit acting like such a git and maybe there'll be hope for you."

"Seriously! What's your problem dude?"

"Things have changed." The punk said irritably.

Al ran a hand through his hair. A sign that he was stressed. The teen fixed Arthur with a confused, hurt look. The Brit looked away, glaring at the black road.

"What's changed besides you?"

"Your relationship status. And you didn't exactly warn me before it did."

The jock didn't reply.

"Your dating Tino now Al. And I don't think you should be spending all your free time with me if you are. But that's alright. I have my own friends now. I can go to parties and things with them. I don't have to rely on your popularity anymore."

He offered his friend a small, sorrowful smile.

"I probably can't win out against Tino anyway. I…I hope you guys have fun together."

Before the taller can say a word, Arthur rushed inside. Head throbbing, he quickly entered his room, pulled on his headphones, and went into the fetal position on his bed, wiping away any tears that threatened to escape.

It was just a crush. He would get over it. _Right?_

_-S.S.C.O.T.Y-_

"Hey Tino. You know our plan? It isn't really working. Can we talk about it?"

"What plan?"

Elizaveta and Matthew stepped out of the shadows. The boy froze. After seeing Elizaveta's fierce glare, he did what years of sports taught him to do: He bolted down the street.

The girl immediately chased after him, hollering bloody murder. With a small jingle, an item fell out of her hands. The Canadian sighed as she watched her run after his brother. Al always managed to snatch attention. Matt would stay in the shadows. He stooped down to pick up the reason they went to Arthur's house in the first place.

A pair of dog tags.

He looked from Arthur's house to the accessory, and pocketed the object, whistling as he walked to his own residence.

It wasn't his job to hand off the dog tags.

_-~S.S.C.O.T.Y~-_

When he got out of the fetal position and pulled off his headphones, the Kirkland house was unusually quiet. Curious, Arthur got up and made his way to the bathroom to wash off any trace of tears. When he was finished and roamed the halls with no confrontation, he grew slightly concerned. The teen began peering within each room, finding no one each time.

Arthur was growing hysterical when he heard his mother singing off-key in her room.

"Where are your children?"

She jumped.

"Oh, Arthur. You haven't heard? Draco found out that the hot water and heat wasn't working so he left."

"Just packed up and dusted? Because he didn't want to spend a night in the cold?"

The red head nodded, folding a shirt and placing it in her white duffel bag.

"Jon was next. He and Mac are staying at their friend Jesse's house for the night. Then Peter went to stay with the Beckett's."

"All of that bollocks because they don't want to shower in cold water?"

"Who in their right minds would want to stay in a house with no heating in the middle of one of the coldest Novembers of the century?"

He eyed her duffel bag maliciously.

"You're leaving as well?"

"I'm going across the street to Juliet's house. You should come. You, Alfred, and Matthew can have a sleepover or whatever you lads call it."

'Twas a good thing the woman had her back turned to Arthur. He didn't want her to see his deep scowl.

"I'm fine here."

"You know I can't leave you in the house by yourself."

"I…I was actually planning to go visit a friend."

At least now he was. Cripes he was good at this lying business.

"At 7 PM?"

"I was just going to catch a quick movie and come back before curfew. I'm sure he won't mind if I stay at his house. He has tons of friends do that all the time anyway."

"Are you sure you-?"

"I'll go pack now."

Arthur rushed out. He took all his sports items from that day and carelessly flung them aside. For once, he didn't care about neatness. He just had to get out of that house. He packed a shirt, a fresh pair of socks, a pair of sweatpants, a copy of _The Prisoner of Azkaban, _and his bathroom necessities to display to his mother for approval before heading out.

Arthur ran out of his block before any of the neighbors could peer out their window and spot him.

He didn't even know where he was going. But even a park bench seemed to be a better option than the Jones' house. Perhaps he could stay at Starbucks, simply drinking coffee till the early hours of the morning?

Cursing, he kicked an empty soda bottle into the road.

His family was a bunch of wimps. Cold showers weren't that bad. And they could battle the heat using blankets. Draco probably just wanted an excuse to get out of the house. The rest followed in his stupid example. Like a bunch of sheep.

_Lost lambs are always welcomed back home. Even if you don't choose us, we'll forgive._

Lost lambs, huh? What did the frog mean by that? He wasn't calling Arthur a lamb. He wouldn't use such a derogatory term. He knew Arthur would kick his arse to hell and back. Was he quoting the bible? Despite being Protestant, Arthur didn't read it too often. And where was this home he spoke of?

When he finally found a park bench empty of litter and bird waste, he was frozen through his jeans and starving. He really should've grabbed more than two dollars. Suddenly, the Starbucks idea didn't seem very irrational. He didn't like coffee, but he could bear drinking it if it kept him warm. Of course, caffeinated tea would be his first choice.

He could sneak back into his own house in an hour (when he was sure his mom wouldn't come back) and boil some tea the old fashioned way over the fireplace. Thinking about ways he could break in through the back, he wrapped his hands around his bare arms and settled himself with _Harry Potter_ for the coldest hour of his life.

_-S.S.C.O.T.Y-_

Gilbert Beilschmidt was walking home from a Starbucks meeting with an old friend, so content with their chat that he actually skipped down the streets. Humming along to the _Kelly Clarkson _song blasting through his headphones, he strolled by Ross park, expecting to admire the flora in passing. Not a lithe figure curled up on a park bench.

At first, he believed it to be a college drunkie or 16 year old girl that just had her heart broken. Then he saw that the figure wasn't moving, except for the occasional shiver or brute cough. Figuring it to be a homeless man, he immediately felt pity. Slowly, he removed his headphones and entered the commons area.

He kept a sensible distance away from the figure, just in case it was actually a serial killer. With the aim of a pro, he lifted the bag of pastries in his hand and threw it across. It landed right on the figure's upper back and then fell onto an abandoned novel, letting a loud squelching sound cut through the air. He turned, poised to run, when he heard the being yelp.

"Ow! Bloody hell!"

Wait, he knew that voice. A bare, blue-tinted hand (Fuck, he must've been freezing) groped for the bag. Lifting it up, the figure turned to look at it, and for whoever threw it. Gil would know those eyebrows anywhere.

"Kirkland? What are you doing here? Falling asleep in the park when it's cold is so unawesome!"

Arthur didn't realize he was around Gilbert's neighborhood until the albino found him. With a hint of amusement, the blonde noted the Starbucks bag in his hand. He was just thinking about their scones.

"Needed a place to crash for an hour." The blonde mumbled. It took a moment for him to rip himself away from whatever warm, delicious food was inside the bag and throw it back.

"What happened to your house?"

"My family's a bunch of wankers."

"…Group incestuous orgy?"

"No. They're just sissies that can't take the cold."

"And so they kicked you outside where it's extremely cold."

"I was planning on breaking back in when they all left."

Gil nodded.

"Uh-huh. You've got a lot of explaining to do kid. Come on, you can crash at my place tonight instead of…breaking into your own house. You look terrible."

Oblivious to his pallid complexion, ruby red nose and white lips, Arthur simply took Gil's word for it. He staggered up, grabbed his pack and followed the other out of the park.

"You need to drink this. It's not tea, but hot chocolate should be fine. And you could have the muffin and scones too. Not exactly the best dinner but I'm not allowed in the kitchen after 7 so I can't get you anything when we get to my house."

"Thank you."

Gil eyed him as he sipped from the Styrofoam cup. A leather-gloved hand soon rested in blonde hair, mussing it.

"Cheer up broski. We're going to have a totally awesome man-over!"

So that's what normal boys called sleepovers.

The conversation was slow to start at first, becoming more open when the albino brought up stories about Romano. His seemingly endless knowledge of funny stories dating back to six years ago surprised Arthur. He never thought the two were close at all. Then again, the entire group was closer than they typically let on. Behind all the foul words and bickering, they were similar to a family. Elizaveta and Roderich acted as the parents. Matthew was definitely their son. Then Francis was…a grandfather? Perhaps a godfather. No, Romano was the godfather. The freshman had to be the godfather. Amused, he laughed aloud.

"You've finally snapped."

"You say that as if you were waiting for me to snap."

Gil stuck out his tongue immaturely as he unlocked his door. The Brit socked him in the arm as he walked past.

"Why are all of you so freakin' rich?" he asked as the chandelier burned his eyes. He didn't even realize how rude his question was. His brain had yet to thaw out. Thankfully, Gil didn't mind the interrogation at all.

"It's only me, Francis, Antonio and Romano that have huge houses. Matt-Well, you've already been to his house. Sissy-boy's not mansion-wealthy, but he's not average either. Then Elizaveta lives in an apartment with her Pops and brother.

The boy looked around his flashy parlor with a small frown.

"To be honest, I like the cow's apartment best."

"Why?" Arthur asked, honestly surprised. The albino smirked.

"This house is a_ bitch_ to clean after parties."

They shared a mischievous look before bursting into a fit of chuckles.

"I think I caught your crazy."

"The crazy ones are usually the geniuses."

"Come on, let's get you a shower."

Apparently, Gilbert's room was right next to the bathroom, similar to Arthur's own setup. Towel slung over his shoulder and his bag in hand, he entered the Beilschmidt's bathroom foolishly expecting the simplicity of his own.

Not a Jacuzzi with a spa set and an assortment of soaps, shampoos, body washes, and bath salts.

Almost scared of all of the extravagant silver accents and marble counters, he tiptoed towards the shower placed in the far right corner of the room. Arthur flinched when he saw that the knobs to control the temperature were shaped like roses. Even if it wasn't intended, Francis's influence was present in his best friend's washroom. This wasn't scandalous, but it still put him off. The warm water flowing over his chilled body was quick to bring his spirits back up, however. With a content sigh, he let the water sink deep into his pores. At one point, he found he was being discourteous by taking such a long time. He finished his business and left quickly, but not without snatching a cucumber from a glass bowl.

"I understand why your prefer Elizaveta's apartment."

"That's not even my parent's bathroom Artie. Hell, that isn't even the _guest _bathroom. Hold this for me."

Gil tossed his iron cross necklace, leaving to take his own shower.

Arthur caught it as the door shut. He pulled on his second sock and gazed around, impressed.

The room was plain compared to the rest of the house, but typical for the average teenager.

The carpet was worn from abuse. The blonde spotted a few oddly colored stains and rips in the lush surface. Surprisingly, this was all the mess there was. The desk by the window was surprisingly neat, with various illustrations hung up around a laptop. No clothes were thrown about nor did and scraps of paper lie around. He always expected Gilbert to be a messy guy

The walls were painted white, with black stripes lining the top and bottom. The side next to the boy's bed had the same black bird inked into the male's back. Similar to Gil's tattoo design, the detail put into the image was stunning. He settled for staring for a few minutes, and then gazed at the posters. He could recognize a few bands. _The Sex Pistols. Green Day. Asking Alexandria. Four Year Strong. _Then some completely baffled him, such as _Hollywood Undead, Skrillex, and Alice In Chains._

But the _Kanye West_ poster threw him for a loop.

"You like Kanye West?" He inquired when the albino walked in, flashing his six pack and biceps to the world.

"Hell yes! Eminem, Kanye and Jay-Z. I swear, I live for their music."

"Never thought you were the type."

Gil pulled on a navy V-neck and a black hoodie, and then jumped onto his bed without pulling pants over his baggy black boxers, which Arthur found quite contradictory.

"Why? Is it because I'm stereotypically supposed to listen to rock?"

"Stereotypically is a word within your vocabulary?"

"Now that is no way to treat a friend that has given you a home."

Arthur reddened, looking at his socked toes.

"Sorry. Thanks for letting me stay the night."

"Don't sweat it. I like you. Even if I didn't take the vow, I probably would have let your stay. But, wait, I want an answer! Why don't you think I'm the type?"

"You're seen as a leather jacket badass so I kind of figured metal and rock would be your favorite music genre." Arthur shrugged. "Guess I was wrong."

"No. You're right. I think metal and rock are awesome. I also think that some rappers are awesome."

Gil turned onto to his stomach, fixing Arthur with an amused scrutiny before continuing.

"Let me tell you my view on what punk is so the cow doesn't pollute you with stereotype shit. Punk is punk. There isn't any real way to describe the entire movement. The only people that would know how are the ones like Sid Vicious and The Ramones. Since there is no way to describe it, do what you want, when you want and however the hell you want to do it and never let society get to you. It ain't about looks you know. It's more like a lifestyle. Keep it you and keep it awesome. I think that's the only way to be a true punk. So liking rap and rock isn't a crime."

"I…I agree and disagree."

"Explain thyself commoner."

"There is a way to describe punk. In fact, it all comes down to two words."

He met Gil's gaze with pride.

"_Fuck Society."_

"I can see why Romano likes you so much."

"Why does he like me?" The question was simple, and filled with honest inquisitiveness.

"Cause you were practically born to be his best friend," The albino flicked his friend's nose. "You never take anyone else's shit. He probably sees a bit of his own sarcastic spunk in you. Mattie says you two are more like twins than he and Feli are."

Arthur beamed, taking this as a compliment. The freshman wasn't half bad.

"He was really worried after you left."

"Hmm?"

"He regretted forcing you to talk about your Dad and thought it was his fault that you left. He panicked and went on and on. Then he started ranting about how he would kill you if you ditched us for Alfred. _'They can date and shit, but if I don't see that bastard when Alfred takes him, I'll go after them with a cleaver.' _is what he said.

"I knew he had abandonment issues!"

"He's had relationship issues since he found out he was the least favored twin."

Luisa Vargas's smile flashed in his mind as Arthur said reflexively,

"That can't be true."

The sophomore's grin turned bitter. Gil cut off eye contact and looked out his window.

"You'd be surprised Art." He said calmly. "He can't even sleep in his own house half the time. He's either at Antonio's or Elizaveta's place whenever his family screws up."

"That's…" He trailed of not knowing what to say. As if picking up on this, Gilbert turned towards him with a new smile.

"No point in talking about it. You probably don't need any sad shit after today. Let's-_Fuck, where's my necklace_?"

The Brit, amused, raised the iron cross. His friend sighed, relieved, and tied it around his neck.

"Is it important to you?"

"It's the only gift from Father Fritz that my 'rents haven't taken."

"Father Fritz?"

Gil got up, moving toward a DVD shelf.

"Only the best Uncle in the entire world. Hey, you want to watch the _Lion King_?"

"Yes, Gilbert. On one of the most stressful days of my life, I want to watch a lion cub get mentally scarred when he sees his father get gang-murdered by a stampede of rhinoceros-zebra government experiments gone wrong and adopted by a homosexual couples in the-."

"I get it. You really like the Lion King."

As he pushed the CD into the player, Arthur realized that he technically only half lied to his mother. He was watching a movie with a friend after all.

"I only watch this movie for Mufasa." Gil said after a few minutes. "The dude's freakin' beast."

"That may be because he's a lion Gilbert."

"An _awesome_ lion. And…He's going to die soon. Here comes Scar."

"Aww don't cry Gilbert."

"Screw you Skinny Bitch."

Arthur looked at the animated animals with mild interest. Suddenly, an intriguing notion tickled his fancy.

"Is your _Uncle Father Fritz_ like Scar?"

"Hell to the no. If anything, my real dad is Scar. Uncle Fritz is like a laid-back version of Mufasa. He usually visits around Christmas. You could come over and meet him if you want."

"I'll take you up on that offer."

They were silent for the next ten minutes, and then the meerkat and warthog appeared.

At first, Arthur thought he really was going crazy. The voice was a mere whisper. He assumed it was only in his head. But when he turned, he was proven wrong.

Gil wasn't a bad singer. He would never say that. His voice wasn't the reason why he laughed. It was the way the teen was intently looking at the screen, murmuring lyrics under his breath.

The Brit let loose a giggle, which alerted Gil to his audience. The boy reddened as the shorter smirked. But then their eyes met, and a mutual decision was made.

This was how they both ended up singing Hakuna Matata with no regard for the other members of the house.

Gil picked up a hairbrush and Arthur used the remote as microphones, striking dramatic poses and hugging each other around the shoulder. It was all fun and games, until they spotted Ludwig staring at them from the doorway.

The tired, blue-eyed glare was for his brother alone, but a chill still passed through Arthur.

Slowly, they released their embrace and dropped their mics. He felt Gil tense beside him as the albino cleared his throat.

"Evening bruder."

"It's midnight Gilbert."

"Yes Luddy. It's also Sunday morning. We should go to church."

"What Protestant church is active at midnight?"

"The Church doors are always open." Gil wiggled his eyebrows with a smile. His brother was not amused.

"Give me the DVD Gilbert."

"What? No!"

"This is the fifth time this week. Give me the DVD, or else I'll tell Father."

At this, Gil quickly complied.

"You're such a bitch Luddy."

"Don't sing at midnight. Ever. Good Evening Arthur."

"Good Evening Ludwig."

The blonde left, leaving Gil to sulk, but the albino quickly bounced back. _Like a child,_ Arthur noted.

"Let's play 5 questions!"

"Isn't it 20 questions?"

"Usually by the time Franny, Toni and I hit five questions, we figure out something to do."

Well, it couldn't hurt right?

"Alright sure.'

"How long have you had a crush on Alfred?"

"I don't-."

"Bullshit."

Their challenging looks met in a standoff. Gil's crimson eyes penetrated deep, forcing Arthur to turn away with a hot blush.

"I don't know okay? I just do. And I don't like it one bit."

"Is that why you're hanging out with us?"

"Huh?"

"To avoid Alfred and your little_ feelings_?"

If Gil had a tail, Arthur was sure it would be wagging a mile per hour as the boy gave him a condescending smirk.

"It was similar to that at first I guess, but then I thought you lot were okay, so I started doing what you wanted to take a break from the popular kids for a little while. But Romano and I became friends too quickly so I can't just leave. He shouldn't worry about that and… Oi! D-Don't tell anyone about what I just told you! I don't want them to get all cocky."

"Gott, you're such a girl. They all already know anyway."

The Brit groaned, blush growing redder. Gil laughed at his embarrassment, pinching his cheeks as if he were a child. The git.

"What about you and Matthew?" Arthur asked, trying to get back at the albino.

"Hmm?"

"You know the reputation you and Francis have for fooling around. Are you and Matthew serious or is he just another fling?"

"Serious. Definitely serious."

"How sure are you?"

"Hey, wait, it's my turn-."

"You took two turns."

Gilbert turned onto his back, staring up at his ceiling.

"I've endured too much crap for it not to be serious. Francis gave me hell when I asked Birdie out, and then my parents were absolutely pissed."

"Why? Ludwig was with Feliciano before you and Matthew even-."

"I claimed to be bisexual before him." Gil cut off Arthur abruptly. The Brit stayed silent, indicating for him to explain himself.

"Ludwig told me he was gay before he told my parents. I'm older by a few months so he treats me like a real elder brother, confessing stuff to me and shit. He didn't know what to do because Dad's a total ass when it comes to homosexuality so I made up a plan. I told my 'rents I was bi and, naturally, Pop's was pissed off. He couldn't look at me for weeks. Then I told Ludwig to tell them that he was also bisexual two weeks later. They blamed me for leaving a _negative impression_ and let Luddy date Feli, hoping he would realize what he was doing and change. They still hate me but they're tolerant of Ludwig because they think he doesn't know any better."

"And Ludwig never told them about the plan because?"

Gil shrugged.

"He may be strong and brave, but he's weak when it comes to our parents. He's practically whipped. Disgracing them would be like suicide."

"The entire thing must suck for you."

"I can date Mattie and he's happy he can walk around with Feli." The albino said firmly. "That's what I wanted."

"But now your parents loathe you."

Arthur frowned as his comrade kept his eyes trained on the ceiling. Eventually the teen let a long breath loose.

"I'm kind of happy they hate me."

"Wha-?"

"Let me finish. It kind of shows that they don't really love me for me. If you truly love someone, you should at least tolerate every aspect of them. They shouldn't love me only if I fit their standards. I'm a fucking awesome person and they can't see that because they don't like the fact that I'm bi. It's their loss. I wasn't even really bi at first. I just wanted to get them to let Luddy bring Feli to Homecoming."

"That's why Francis didn't want you to date Matthew." The Brit realized. Gil grinned.

"Bingo. He knew I was lying to my parents about the whole thing so he thought I was only joking around."

"What happened when-?"

Arthur's question trailed off into a squeak when he was jumped on. He got a face-full of white hair as he went down.

"You smell like peppermints." He remarked when the albino released him.

"It's my shampoo. Don't you just _love_ it?" Gil drawled. "_Like,_ we _totally _got it imported it from Norway."

"And you call me a girl." Green eyes rolled teasingly as the sophomore pushed the boy away.

"It's my turn. What's your favorite video game?"

The blonde's nose wrinkled in distaste.

"I despise video games. All you do is shoot people and acquire ammo so you can shoot down more people. It's pointless."

The twinkle in Gil's eyes shone as the Brit expressed his distaste.

"Have you ever played an RPG?"

"A what?"

And that was how Arthur was introduced to the realm of video games. Alfred had always tried to persuade him to play with him, but he had never found any interest in any of the sport-related or shooting diversions that lacked substance. Gilbert's '_RPG_'s, however, had engrossing plots, stunning characters, and interesting settings. He could read the synopsis of each for days, but Gil was eager to have him actually play.

He settled for _Kingdom Hearts_, and was quickly swept into the Disney-based game. Gil instructed him on the basics, and the best way to receive all the cut scenes.

At some point, he started comparing the albino to Alfred. Their video game enthusiasm matched, despite the different genres they were interested in. Not to mention their juvenile behaviors. The way Gil reached out to help Arthur was exactly the way he figured Al would try to. He could see himself becoming close comrades with the albino. He was the only friend, other than Al, that he stayed with overnight. Of course, friendship was all it would ever be.

What did he like about Alfred? If Gil and Al were so similar wouldn't he be apt to have the same feelings for the albino? There was something that Gilbert lacked that Al had. But what?

He stared at the boy, who had fallen asleep on the floor. The teen saved his game, shut off the system, and threw a blanket over the teen. His question still ringing in his mind, Arthur followed his friend's example and let fatigue overtake him.

_-S.S.C.O.T.Y-_

You guys are amazing. I love reading your critiques and opinions. If you have a problem with any part of the story, just tell me. I want this fic to be good.

I've always seen Finland and Denmark as the Nordics that made everyone else laugh when they were feeling down. I wanted to make Tino a shocking character so I kind of tweaked him a bit. Too much? Should I make him more housewife-ish?

Did you know that the U.K has the largest European video gaming market? I can see Arthur hating games like Call of Duty, but loving the games that tell stories like Kingdom Hearts. (Especially since a majority of them have magic and strange creatures).

**Preview for the next chapter: **_The Kirkland household's heating is still out-of-whack in the morning. Alfred and his father offer to take a look at the system and Holly practically traps our favorite Brit in the house. Will Arthur be able to escape an awkward confrontation? Or will he and Alfred feud in front of their parents? And who in the world are Jesper and Norge?_


	8. 7:I've Got Headaches and Bad Luck

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own Hetalia, Fall Out Boy, The Outsiders, Harry Potter, Green Day or Titanic.

_**Chapter 7: I've Got Headaches and Bad Luck But They Couldn't Touch You**_

They were wimps.

"I cannot _believe_ you wankers left the house because there was no hot water."

The Kirkland brothers eyed Arthur with varying degrees of shame. Jon and Peter had the decency to at least hang their heads.

"I guess I could've used extra blankets instead of burdening Jesse like that. " Jon murmured absently.

"So I wanted to party at my best friend's house. At least I wasn't the first eejit to run. The only reason I left was because Draco left," Mac claimed, looking for a scapegoat. Draco didn't skip a beat.

"Hell if I'm going to stay in a freezing house."

Arthur shook his head, pausing to sneeze. It was chilly in the Kirkland household. He could rant about it all he wanted, but it wouldn't change the fact that abandoning the place overnight was a good idea. The extra blankets they had were thin. One would have to combine the winter blankets on their beds to stay warm. And combining the blankets would mean the boys and Holly would have to sleep side by side in front of the fireplace. Between Peter's kicking habit, Draco's snoring, and Mac's late night bathroom journeys, the experience would be terrible.

Shivering, the blonde zipped Gil's hoodie higher and slowly began to eat his cold cereal. The youth gave him the sweater just that morning when he pointed out that Arthur only had a t-shirt when it was 30 degrees outside. (_"Getting sick is so unawesome, especially before Thanksgiving Break!")_

Peter coughed, whining about tea moments later.

"The gas on the oven won't light up dearest," Holly said tiredly. "But everything should be fixed by noon."

"You called someone?" Arthur inquired.

She shook her head, drawing her mug of milk from her lips.

"I told the Jones' about our problem and George volunteered to come take a look at our system with Alfred. Apparently they had a similar problem last year. You could help them Artsy! You didn't go see Alfred yesterday after all."

The temperature dropped. An anxiety built up in him at the thought of another confrontation.

"Really? I'll probably miss him then. I was planning on going to the library."

"I could ask him to wait-."

"No. I really need to finish an English project. I won't be back until six or seven."

Holly gave her son a calculative gaze to which he met with one of innocence. She was the first to look away, but the discussion was far from over.

"You and I need to have a talk Mister. A little heart to heart."

Arthur's face paled.

"I-I have to check my email. See if Macy is going to cross the pond for Thanksgiving. She's been working hard."

Mac was the first to make his escape. Jon shortly followed, pulling the old homework explanation. Peter declared that he 'needed to take a piss'. And Draco came up with the half-arsed excuse that he needed to help Peter, leaving Arthur all alone with Holly.

"Alfred told me something interesting yesterday."

The blonde was silent. His guts churned, threatening to send back the little food he ate. He hoped his mother would equate the shivering of his numb hand to the cold. Did Alfred tell her about the fight? Or maybe the not-kiss?

"Why didn't you tell me you were going to the Vargas' yesterday? I would have made a batch of brownies for you to bring."

The relief was unbelievable.

"It was a random decision to go. Romano invited me to a party so I went."

"Oh, it wasn't Feliciano?"

"No. Why?"

The woman shrugged.

"Alfred said Feliciano invited him so I thought you two went together. So it was only you and Romano?"

"No. Francis, Roderich, Matthew, Elizaveta, Gilbert, and Antonio came with us."

Holly looked at her son, eyes watering. He already knew what was coming. Arthur ran to get the tissues.

"Mum, there's no need to cry. I didn't do anything bad."

The woman held her son's face in her hands.

"Oh, but my baby boy has more than 3 close friends. This means I lost the bet."

"What bet?"

She blew her nose.

"The one I made with your father before he passed. I thought you would be fine with Alfred, Matthew and one friend you would make in college. He thought you would be with some group of really close friends all through your life like he was. He said he had a dream about it."

So his father was psychic? Bloody hell, that was alarming.

"What were the terms of the bet?"

"Since I lost, I have to pour expensive wine over his grave every week for as long as I remember."

"But Dad didn't drink."

"He said he wouldn't have to worry about getting hammered if he was dead."

The woman gave her son a small smile.

"You father was always such a prankster. He loved telling jokes. I think that's why he didn't drink. He wanted to remember the crazy things his friends did at parties so he could retell them."

A small sob escaped her. Arthur knelt before her again, giving her an awkward hug.

"I…could go with you if you like."

"Lovely, we're going this Saturday."

She jumped up and kissed her son on the forehead with a light laugh. She moved to leave, paused, and turned the shocked teen.

"Artie," He glanced up. She grinned. "I'm proud of you."

Holly ignored her son's bewildered look. Grabbing her broom, she waltzed out the door, yelling about how the house had to be clean before the Jones' arrived.

Feeling as if he were just scammed, Arthur slowly followed after. He left the kitchen, expecting to quickly clean his room (bonus points if he played some _Green Day _while doing it) and pack up a messenger bag full of his usual writing materials, just in case he got an idea while in the library.

But Draco had to prevent all that.

"We need to talk little bro."

The blonde almost missed the feeling of being thrown over Draco's shoulder. The red head ran up into his own room, throwing Arthur on his bed and locking the door behind him.

It was crazy how similar the man's room was to his own. They both had their guitars standing up by their bookcase, and various sheets of music lying around it. Arthur wondered if Draco sat on the floor when he played like he did.

The scent of smoke was a constant in the bedroom. Fearing for his lungs, Arthur sank his face into Draco's lush, black pillow, eying his brother with suspicion. The man sneered, plopping down next to his 'favorite little brother'.

"So what's this I hear about Baby Artie getting a tattoo?"

Arthur's face turned sheet white.

"You followed me to school?"

"No, I stalked you. There's a difference. Following is legal and prim and proper, while stalking is harassment, which is illegal and makes me look like a badass."

Arthur threw the pillow he was lying on.

"Tosser. I'm not telling you a single thing."

"Aww, you never tell me anything anymore Arthur."

"Maybe it's because you act like such a prick whenever I do?"

"Just explain yourself and I won't tell Mum."

"No! I refuse!"

"How can you say no to this kind of face? Come on Taikos, give him your pretty littl' cute look."

Draco held his small tiger up to Arthur. Both the man's and the animal's eyes go ridiculously wide, portraying virtuousness.

"Valor's cuter."

The tiger cub seemed to scowl as it jumped out of Draco's hands and clawed the door. The red head opened the entrance and it ran off, no doubt to find the lion that rivaled it in attractiveness.

"Here's my conditions. You let me go with you, and I won't tell Mumsy about this whole tattoo business and you joining the occult."

"The _what?"_

"Your little group? You know, the guys that want you to join them in the great witch hunts and soul eating."

"Draco I am not a part of the occult! None of my friends are either you twat!"

"It's okay little brother. We're all confused at one point of our lives."

Arthur rolled his eyes, deciding to drop the topic.

"Why do you want to go?"

"To talk you out of it of course. I mean, you'll probably chicken out at the last second, but I need to go just in case you put up a brave front," Draco leered at his brother. "I'm the only delinquent in this family. _Do you understand Artsy?_"

The sophomore broke eye contact, nodding slowly. The elder clapped a huge hand on his brother's shoulder, applying enough pressure to make him squirm.

"Glad we had this discussion. Now get the hell out of my room."

"Bloody hell," he muttered as he moved to clean his messy room.

He really shouldn't have tossed his things around last night. His sanctuary was uncharacteristically chaotic, almost like Peter's bedroom. It took his longer to than expected to clean up his clothes, bed and CD stack. By the time he was finished, it was already 10 AM, which meant Al could come by at any minute. He frantically packed his black messenger bag and ran down the stairs.

Arthur already had one foot out the front door when Holly chose to yank him back in.

"Did you clean your room? Alfred may want to 'hang out' there."

"Yes Mumsy. Now I've got to go."

"Not so fast lad," The woman pulled her son's collar once more. "You can get at the living room."

Biting back a groan, Arthur quickly got to work. He still had time. Maybe if he hurried…

_DING-DONG!_

Or maybe he didn't have time. Anxiety threatened to shut off his ability to breathe as he searched for an escape route. The backdoor wasn't an option. Alfred would see him running. He could hide in his room and wait until Al was working in the basement. But his bedroom was the first place the teen would look for him.

So, instead, he hid in Jon's room. His brother's blue eyes didn't look up from his computer as Arthur snuck in. Quietly, he took off his sneakers, peeking at Jon in time to see him tucking a wisp of caramel colored hair behind his ear.

The blonde lay on the bed with his back to the door to give the illusion of slumber.

"Did you two get into a little lover's quarrel?"

"We're** not** lovers."

"You do know that no one is going to persecute you for being homosexual. When Mac told Mother he was bisexual, she was completely comfortable with him. If I recall correctly, she said, _'Great! Less grandkids to feed at Christmas!'_"

Arthur smiled at this. Holly was tolerant of most people. It was a useful trait, considering how all her boys had the weirdest quirks.

If only Gilbert's parents were the same way.

"Then again, you are not worried about Mother are you? Alfred is the problem here is he not?"

The blonde didn't answer. He heard Jon sigh, and the sound of a chair swiveling around.

"I apologize. I heard a majority of your fight yesterday and the conversation he had with someone later. I did not mean to eavesdrop."

" It's f'ne." Arthur mumbled.

"Judging by what I heard, I do not believe his wishes are to see you. Listen, there are no voices downstairs. Alfred is probably in the basement. You can escape now. But hurry up and make up with him." The chair swiveled again. "And give yourself more credit. He may like you more than you think."

Arthur whipped his head around to question Jon, but the 17-year old already had his headphones on with some odd New Wave music blaring through.

He put his shoes back on, grabbed his messenger bag and gave his adoptive brother a quick punch in the shoulder to signal his departure.

"_Diolch."_ He thanked him quietly before closing the door behind him. If he lingered a little longer, he may have seen the small, knowing grin on Jon's face.

As he tip-toed past Peter's slightly open door, the child's obnoxious laugh rang out.

"That's so awesome!"

Arthur paused, ready to tell his brother to quiet down, but when he peeked in, he saw an all too familiar mop of blonde hair.

Alfred was dressed down. With his black t-shirt, gray sweatpants and _Batman_ socks, he looked as if he simply got up, slipped on his _Adidas_ sandals and walked over.

Knowing him, that probably was what the boy did.

With a slight frown, he noted that the teen didn't bother to run a comb through his hair. Along with his usual rebellious tuft, other hairs stood. His bangs were a complete mess.

Once again, Peter laughed, dragging Arthur away from thoughts of running his hands through the ruffled mop.

"Aww man! I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die!"

"No you won't. Not if I can help it! Here, let's try this."

Ever so gently, Alfred guided Peter's finger across the touch screen. Eyes wide, Arthur was covered with a deep scarlet blush.

_Pound. Pound. Pound._

"Oh! Thanks Al! You're the best-est hero in the world!"

"Only doing my job wanna play another one?"

_Pound. Pound. Pound._

"Aww man, you beat my high score!"

" Of course I did! I'm awesome!"

"Oooh, come 'ere you little twerp!"

The two howled with mirth as the elder gave Peter a noogie.

'_Al would make a great father.'_

_Pound. Pound. Pound._

'_What the hell is that noise?'_

Arthur glanced down at his chest, which was tightening by the minute.

"_Fuck," he whispered. The jock glanced up as the punk did. Their eyes met. The pounding stopped._

Then Arthur ran out of his own house as fast as his skinny legs could go.

-T.A.O.K.T.P-

The Brit was calmer when he had a cup of tea in his hands. He had stopped at a small café on his way to the library. Just by stepping into the establishment, his panic drifted away. It was splendid first, but he forgot the library's no food or drink rule.

"Is there any specific reason as to why you have a beverage in my building young man?"

The librarian's beady eyes leered down at him, as if he were the worm to her wrinkled, old raven.

Flustered, Arthur searched for a sensible answer.

"I-."

"He is just doing me a favor. Do not get your panties in a twist."

He looked into the eyes of his savior, relief painting his expression in gratitude.

Arthur had never seen the teen, despite the fact that his appearance could draw heads from a mile away. His blonde hair was untamable, swooping to his right. Red highlighted the bush of blonde, matching the muscle shirt that bore the flag of Denmark. His gray jeans were ripped beyond repair and stuffed into black Doc Marten's. He smirked down at the lady, making sure to flash the metal on his leather jacket. The teen was at least two feet taller than the woman. Intimidating her wasn't too hard. She scuttled away, muttering about today's youth under her breath

When his savior grinned at Arthur, a lip ring shone in the light. Blue eyes gave him a look full of interest, as if Arthur was some new spectacle.

"Thanks for the coffee newb." The taller snatched the cup. Whatever gratitude Arthur had, quickly disappeared.

"Bastard that's my-!"

"Ugh, what is this stuff? Take it back! That is disgusting."

Glaring at the stranger, he snatched back his tea cup and tossed it in the nearest trash can. (The librarian gave him withering glare that he conveniently ignored.)

The mysterious boy grabbed Arthur's hand and led him to the back of the building, chattering all the while.

"I legit just saved you back there bro. You owe me. Gil has told me all about you. Oh wait, better introduce myself first. I am Jesper Dane, Senior. I moved here from Denmark about a year ago so do not be too surprised if I say something in Danish every once in a while. Just point it out to me you know? I like big axes, rock n' roll, mostly the Misfits, and I am really good friends with your buddy Gilbert. Unless you're not Arthur. But you have to be Arthur. Who else has eyebrows that big? Oh, and I own that weirdo so do not try anything."

Arthur, overwhelmed, just barely managed to keep up with the Dane's conversation, realizing late that the other was pointing at someone.

His companion peered at the two from above a copy of _The Outsiders_. Despite their dullness, the adolescent's blue eyes rooted Arthur to the floor. They were like winter blizzards, freezing whoever dared to pry too deep into the irises. Wiry, light blonde hair was hurriedly brushed to the boy's right. The tufts that remained on the left were tucked into a silver cross barette.

The book was set down as Jesper forced Arthur forward, revealing thin lips and a pale, immaculate complexion.

The teen stood, showing off his violet V-neck sweater, casual jeans and moccasins. Compared to Jesper, the youth dressed rather plainly. For a second, they simply eyed each other.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Arthur Kirkland."

The other's expression remained blank as he looked between the extended hand and Jesper.

"_Hvem faen er han?"_

"_Han er Gil ven. Ikke være uhøflig. Ryst hånden."_

The odd teen nodded and firmly shook the extended palm.

"My name is Norge."

"What an interesting name Norge."

Norge withdrew his hand, as if he were bitten, and returned to his seat.

"Sit," Jesper commanded. Arthur, intimidated by the much taller, stronger, and older teen, did exactly as he said. Once again those dull blue eyes stared him down.

"Your aura is cerulean and gold with pink. You have integrity, respect for others and a free spirit, but there is sadness or worry. About a lover I presume. Judging by the fading lime green, you also had the sight at one point. Perhaps when you were younger."

"E-Excuse me?"

"That's just Norgie reading auras. He does that when someone seems stressed." Jesper explained. The strange teen ignored him, giving all his attention to Arthur.

"You have a problem, and you need advice from someone that is not close to you. An outsider's perspective."

"From what I have heard," the tallest blonde started, throwing an arm about the Brit's shoulders. "You have gotten yourself into quite a mess at school. Since Norgie refuses to talk to me,"

The quieter gave no indication of hearing this statement. Jesper pouted, displeased.

"I guess you can tell me all about your problems instead."

"I-If I refuse?"

"Then Mrs. Librarian will find an open beer can under your seat and call the police due to an underage drinker."

Arthur didn't need to think twice.

"Well, uh, it all started during this American Soccer game…"

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

"Wow, and all this happened within a month?"

"Indeed, it was quite stressful."

Arthur sipped his now cold tea, tired from telling his long tale.

"There is one thing I do not like about this though."

"Speak freely."

"First of all, you changed yourself to suit the tastes of another."

"I did," Arthur agreed. "Which probably was not the best method. Bu in the end it was a really good choice. I feel freer for some reason. I guess changing the way I dressed switched something in me."

Jesper, however, was unconvinced.

"Before skinny-dipping into relationships,"

"It is diving. Before _diving _into relationships," Norge corrected, nose in novel.

"Yes, yes. Before diving into relationships, you have to know more about yourself. You seem unsure. If you only give half of yourself, you will end up unhappy. Trust me, I have many years on you."

Arthur nodded, taking the advice into consideration.

"And tread carefully into the punk lifestyle. Take things too fast and you will self-destruct. Make sure you know how to recognize different types of people, especially the ones that are involved with drugs. Gil will help you."

"How do you know Gilbert?"

"We are soda drinking buddies!"

The Brit raised a brow.

"Only soda?"

"Well, I drink beer. He drinks soda."

"I see. Well, it has been fun chatting with you chaps. If you excuse me,"

"Wait."

Norge placed the book in the nearest shelf, finished with it. He held Arthu'sr gaze as he sat back down, somehow compelling the Brit to sit with him.

"Listen to Jesper's music."

The Danish youth gave his friend a short look before offering his earbuds to Arthur.

A chorus of indistinguishable screams attacked his eardrums as the squeal of a guitar stabbed the earlobe.

"Gah!" He tore the device out.

"You are more of an alternative rock or even a punk than a metal," The boy's intense stare seemed to ice over Arthur's very core. "Stick with what you know and what you want, and let no one change your opinion for you."

Then Norge stood.

"Watch out for yourself and whatever you care about. I see a great war in your future. Come Jesper. Berwald is waiting for us in the car."

The Senior followed his friend.

"_Ooh, can we go to the cinema? I wish to watch Titanic?"_

"_No."_

The Brit watched them go, admiring how close they seemed.

Do what he wanted, huh?

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

It was about 5 when Arthur returned to his house. He cleaned his Vans on the doormat, and took his sweet time when walking in, shuffling through a handful of mail and yelling at his brothers to,

"_Check the bloody oven before the damn chicken explodes again!"_

It was 5:03 when he crashed into a broad chest. Two arms grabbed him by the shoulder, steadying him.

"Whoa. You alright Artie?"

"A-Alfred!"

The American grinned at him sheepishly.

" 'Sup dude?'

Bewildered, Arthur looked past him, expecting to find Matthew giving him an apologetic glance. When he doesn't, he fixed his old companion with an odd look.

"Why are you still here? Where's your dad?"

"He went home. I stayed so I could talk to fairy-boy and give him an apology."

"Keep the apology. I-It wasn't your fault really. Fairy-boy was out of line."

The two stared at their feet, ashamed. For a second, Arthur considered running out again but…

_Stick with what you know and what you want_

"So what did you and your father do?"

"Fixed the boiler, looked over anything your heating system. You guys should be fine now. And I painted a Union Flag poster for Pete. He needed it to represent his homeland for some Social Studies project."

Did Alfred really say 'Union Flag' instead of 'Union Jack'? Pleased, Arthur took his newfound forgiveness a step further.

"Hey, uh, I know it's late but do you want to watch a film?"

"Is it the new Harry Potter?"

"I have parts one and two. I would have invited you to watch it earlier, but you seemed really busy."

"With what?"

"Tino."

And so the awkwardness began.

"You should really get to know him. He's a great guy."

"Really? I bet he is." Arthur said airily. He grabbed the DVDs from the shelf and squatted to adjust the DVD player.

"Yeah. He makes me laugh and he's really great at-."

"Do you want to eat lunch first? Or should we just skip to the-?"

Voices from the kitchen interrupted his statement. Surprised, Arthur craned his neck to listen.

_"Oh my God Draco. What the hell is that thing?"_

_"It's a meatloaf 'f course. What else can it be?"_

_"I thought we were eating chicken!"_

_"Smelt like some'ne was baking a pie 'hirty minutes ago."_

_"I thought the milk was going bad forty minutes ago."_

_"Really? I thought Valor just peed on my floor again."_

Red-faced, Arthur slowly turned to Alfred, who almost choked with restrained laughter.

Leave it to his brothers to stop a fight.

"Should we order a pizza and just eat some popcorn?"

The American only nodded, giggles overwhelming him.

About 4 hours later, all the Kirkland boys and Alfred F. Jones are gathered around the TV, watching the 2nd Harry Potter movie with wide eyes and anxious hearts. Their stomachs were filled with pizza and soda pop (Brisk Iced Tea for Peter and Heineken for Draco) and their apple pie slices and cups of tea sat on the table, untouched. Arthur didn't trust himself to pick up the cup for fear of spilling it on Alfred, who was clutching the Brit's shoulders and murmuring something about, _'Nose-less freaks'_ and _'Super Heroic Ginger Twins'_.

Just as the climax began, the door burst open, sending Peter and Alfred into hysterics. The athlete, still holding Arthur, ran up the stairs and locked the two of them in the safest place in the house: Arthur's room.

"You are overreacting Alfred. It's just a film."

"No way man! I swear, the Dark Lord is back, and he'll come after all the mudbloods first! Which means you and I are dead!"

"First of all, call him Voldemort. Second, we're just muggles Al. Even if he was real, he wouldn't come after us…At least not yet."

Arthur patted the boy's hand comfortingly. Honestly, he always overreacted when it came to even the slightest scary movies. Arthur wasn't surprised when Alfred pulled him close out of fear. It was their usual routine. He was alarmed, however, when Alfred somehow tripped making the two of them land in a disgruntled heap, Alfred on top of Arthur. They remain frozen for a minute, red tinting their faces and their hearts clenching. Jade greens traveled down to the pale pink lips that jut out cutely, and then snapped back up.

"G-Get off me you git!"

"Ha-ha, sorry Artie."

"You'd better be! I trust that you aren't frightened anymore?"

"I-I'm fine. I guess I should go home now huh?"

Arthur looked away with a huff. Why did his blush refuse to back down?

"Do as you like."

"G-Got it. See you tomorrow?"

The statement ends off as a question. An interrogation that Arthur doesn't know how to answer.

"Good night Alfred." The adolescent said tiredly.

"Sleep tight Artie."

Boy was he in for an interesting day at school.

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

Sorry this chapter is so short. The one's that end story arcs and begin them are probably going to be shorter than the rest.

The Nordics aren't really going to play a major part. They're more of the observers that occasionally take action. Except Tino. How did I do with Denmark and Norway's characterization? Ok? Terrible? Needs a bit more work?

Finally, about Liechtenstein and Vash, do you guys prefer them as siblings or just really close friends? You can vote, PM me or review your answer. (The plot will be different depending on the winning choice)

**Preview:**_ Alfred and Arthur may have forgiven each other for the fight, but will a new conflict completely ruin their reunion? When Arthur finds out exactly what goes on at the jock table, a war erupts. Popular kids vs. Outcasts. And the Bad Touch Trio and Arthur get to fight the first battle._


	9. 8:And Oh, the Way Your Makeup Stains

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, or anything that has been referenced.

Chapter 8: And Oh, the Way Your Makeup Stains My Pillowcase

In Hetlia High, there were unspoken laws that made the school's system. Every student (except for a certain British youth) knew these laws, so there was usually no need to recite them aloud. The rules were null and void in the classrooms, but stood erect in the lunchroom. If any laws were broken, that's where punishment would be given.

Arthur Kirkland broke two of these unspoken laws. To make matters worse, they were the first laws to be created.

1. Once a member of The Monarchy, always a member. There will be no leaving the designated table. There will be no sitting at the table without the current King's permission.

2. Never defy a Hetlia High Monarchy member. Displeasing a member will be punished severely.

Arthur left The Monarchy for the Sophomore Slumps. Arthur got into a feud with their recently crowned prince. For this, he would pay dearly.

The scene seemed to play dramatically slow. If they were in a movie, _Bad Influence _by P!nk would play as the camera zoomed in on Arthur's face as he laughed at a snide remark Romano made about Gil. It would be like a snapshot of their usual mirth, and then the music would recede to the backdrop as Gil's voice came through.

"It's true! The Fail Whale sounds like a pregnant Francis in labor! Antonio and I have heard it before!"

"You've heard a pregnant Francis in labor? Really?"

Cue the music getting louder as the camera turned away from Gil and instead to a trio of girls in miniskirts, heels and skin tight blouses.

Dressed to kill.

There would be a snapshot of the devious look the girls shared before walking straight towards the Sophomore Slump table. The music would fade out of existence, and their loud (and obviously feigned) conversation would take its place.

"And then I was like totally all over Feliks like _'You can't do that to my Natalia even if you think she's takin' away your Toris.'_ and then he was all like _'Bitch please, she better back away from my-_Oh my **_gosh_**. I, am, like, so sorry!"

The camera would follow the lunch tray spiraling through the air, and then zoom in on the girl's smirk, before turning its attention to Arthur's face as a tray of green peas, a veggie burger, and a diet Pepsi landed on his shirt.

"Oops, let me wash that off for you," A silver haired girl took her own carton of milk and poured the liquid over Arthur's blonde hair. 4 people, including the Brit, jumped up. Gil and Romano were ready to fly at the girls, but it was Elizaveta that slammed her palms on the table.

Arthur saw the girl's savagery come out full force in her green eyes. The lunchroom went silent as all turned to look at the spectacle. Oblivious to all of this attention, Elizaveta jumped over the table, barking at the boys to sit down.

"If it isn't Eliza." The first blonde sneered. Blue eyes haughtily looked the Hungarian over, apparently amused by what she saw. Both girls crossed their arms, entire stance giving off aggresiveness. Elizaveta was whole head shorter than the first blonde, but her leer made her seem superior.

"Go back to the playboy mansion Emily. Lord knows how many fights you'll get into there."

"Right after you 'Lizaveta."

"Yeah, right after you!"

Gracefully, Eliza turned her head to look at the second blonde in the trio. The dirty blonde took a ministep back, her own green eyes eying the tomboy warily.

"Bella Von Brasken. Glad to see you still don't have your own opinion."

"Leave BelBel alone!" The silver head pushed Emily aside, placing herself right in front of Elizaveta. Calmly, the Sophomore stared her down.

"Out of my face Natalia. This is our turf. Go back to your table."

"Free country honey!" Emily called tauntingly, pushing Eliza back. Gil and Roderich tensed, but relaxed as she shook her head. The condenscending smirk she gave the girls was: condenscending, confident, fierce.

"Free country my ass."

The tomboy pounced, letting a savage snarl loose. All Arthur could see was mashed potatoes flying and Elizaveta laughing maniacally as she stuffed Romano's pasta in Emily's face. Bella squealed and ran, screaming about her hair, so Arthur assumed that the potatoes hit their target. The other girls followed, complaining about their clothes. Before Natalia left, however, she fixed the Brit with a fierce glare.

"You've made a terrible mistake punk boy." she hissed. Whipping around, she ran after Emily. Slowly the lunchroom began to get louder.

"Behold," Elizaveta exclaimed proudly, holding up crumpled tissues, dyed red by tomato sauce.

"What are we looking at mamasita?"

"The tissues Emily uses to stuff her bra."

"I knew her boobs weren't real!" Romano snickered at Gil's comment, punching the albino in the arm.

Arthur, however, was still in shock.

"What the hell just happened?"

"Something to be expected mon ami," Francis stood, arms extended. "Friends, Arthur has just been anointed with the platter of shame! His period of probation has come to an end."

Roderich and Matthew clapped politely as the rest yelled and whooped.

"You're finally one of us!" Gilbert exclaimed.

"And I had so many dreams for you too Arthur." Elizaveta shook her head despairingly, but there's a grin on her face.

"What in the world is the platter of shame?"

"Every one of us has gotten into fights with a member of the Monarchy." Matthew explained. He pointed at the teens glaring at the group from across the lunchroom. "Gil and I fight with _High_ _Prince Alfred_. Elizaveta used to fight with the three Duchesses daily. Antonio and _King Sadiq_ used to fight over who would take Romano, since the Monarchy already had Feliciano and stuff. Francis argued with _Prince Ivan _about dating his sisters and _Duke Vash _hates Roderich. Their rule is, if you fight with a member of the Monarchy, you get lunch dumped all over you."

"Hell...Did I have one of those stupid names?"

"You probably did…Wait, you didn't know you were a member of the Monarchy?"

Arthur shrugged, wiping off discolored muck with a napkin.

"I've always found High School Politics terribly overdramatic. I only sat there because Al was there. I honestly could care less about the _'Monarchy_'."

"Aww, Skinny Bitch you're such a BAMF. I like this kid. We're keeping him."

"We already are Roma."

"The only thing that worries me is the lack of teacher intervention." Roderich said thoughtfully. Francis scoffed. He eyed the lunch monitors with a cold leer and a scowl. His nose scrunched up, giving him the appearance of someone who recently smelt something revolting.

"They're never going to do anything when it comes to the clique. If they start it, it's always brushed off as an accident. If anyone else starts an attack, they call the security guards. Don't you remember how Gupta got arrested?"

"Wasn't he the bloke that shoved Alfred into the vending machines?'

"Oui."

"That's only minor. He didn't need to get arrested."

"But he did."

Elizaveta tapped Arthur's shoulder to draw his attention from the Frenchman.

"Do you wish to wear the stains as a badge of honor or do you want to change?"

"Change please. This shirt is terribly uncomfortable."

He began to strip off the fabric (ignoring the whistles and Gil yelling, "You go girl!") and took the shirt from Elizaveta.

"This is my old button down."

The girl giggled sheepishly, ducking her head.

"Yeah, um, you're allowed to wear your old clothes now. I mean, I don't want you thinking that you have to wear skinny jeans and stuff so you can hang out with us. And, uh, I'm sorry if I started pushing things on you. I h-have a pair of dress pants if you want to wear those too."

Accusingly, Arthur glared at a certain albino, who simply smiled back.

"You told."

"She asked what we talked about at our manover. You know the vows, I can't lie about it."

"I," Arthur glanced up at his red-faced friend. "I'll keep the jeans for now. They've grown on me."

The two were both an interesting shade of crimson as they danced around reciting any apologies. Romano, sick of the sappiness, boldly exclaimed,

"Elizaveta is sorry for making SB feel like he can't be himself if he wants to roll with us and SB is sorry for making Elizaveta feel as if her fashions aren't appreciated. Everyone happy now? Now quit sobbing-."

Before he could finish, a girl caught in a fit of hysterics collapsed at their table.

"Why damn it? Why?" Romano yelled, making the girl cry harder. Gilbert slapped him upside the head.

Francis signaled for Roderich to throw over his water bottle. The pianist complied, allowing the Frenchman to offer it to the sobbing girl.

"Drink, it will make you feel better mon cher."

She lifted her face, making the entire table gasp in horror.

Her dazzling, wide green eyes were rimmed with red from crying. The tears stained her rosy cheeks and wet her mussed blonde hair. Which they all knew used to be in a cute chin length bob cut. Her signature blue ribbon was coming undone, hanging limp in her yellow tangle. Her ruby red nose quivered as she sniffled and took a sip from Roderich's water bottle.

"Y-You're…"

"Thank you for the drink Mr. Bonnefoy."

The girl reached into her pocket, making the Sophomore Slumps jump back in fear. When she pulled up a handkerchief, they relaxed, if only a little.

"You are Vash's..."

The freshman gave them all a weak smile.

"My name is Lina Zwingli. I'm sorry, but may I sit here for the remaining lunch period?"

"Of course mon chaton," Francis ran his fingers through her hair, arranging the soft locks. Arthur stared, silently willing his frenemy to stop before the fearsome hall monitor appeared.

"However," Roderich spoke up, tone strict. She looked at him with surprise and a hint of…admiration? He stared back cooly, going as far as to cock an elegant eyebrow.

"You will have to tell us why you were crying. I've known you and Vash since we were children. He usually prevents you from being unhappy when he can."

The girl's smile disappeared as she began to tear up. This time Gil thwacked Roderich's head, and received a bitch-slap in return.

"The girls are always so terribly mean. All they ever do is gossip-."

"No surprise there." Elizaveta muttered.

"And I _loathe_ that. Vash can't tell them to stop talking and whenever I try to steer the conversation, it always ends up back to gossiping. I couldn't do that to anyone! Even if I didn't like them! And, oh, the things they say about you guys and Monique! Poor Monique! She doesn't deserve this ridicule. She's just smart!"

"Calm down bella." Romano soothed, trying to help.

"I am nothing like that Belgian backstabber!" The girl snapped. Realizing her poor conduct, she began to chastise herself.

"Oh my goodness! I'm turning into one of the duchesses! Ms. Héderváry, please help me! You escaped the Monarchy didn't you? What can I do? I'll do anything!"

Elizaveta, as gentle as a mother, offered Lina her cookie.

"Eat it. Chocolate Chip always makes me calm down. What exactly are you asking me to do?"

The girl wiped her eyes with the cuffs of her red crew neck sweater, munching on the cookie daintily. When she swallowed, she looked at Elizaveta with new resolve.

"I want you to make me more like you, or even Mr. Kirkland. They always talk about how wild your group is and how trying to humiliate you is useless because you don't care. You all even cheer when they dump food on you."

"I…" Elizaveta hesitated, glancing up at Arthur. "I don't want to change anyone for a while."

The blonde's face dropped.

"But, I suppose, I can give you a few pointers on how to be more independent and support your opinions."

"Thank you Ms. Héderváry!"

"On one condition though." The Hungarian gave the girl a wry smile. "You call everyone here by their first name. Here we treat each other as equals. There are no rankings. You know everyone right?"

Lina nodded, a bright smile on her lips.

"Oh yes! You're Elizaveta Héderváry, the girl who cut off one of Duchess Emily's pigtails in 6th grade. Then Antonio Carriedo and Romano Vargas ripped the brakes out of King Sadiq's car. Gilbert Beilschmidt broke Prince Alfred's arm and Matthew Jones broke his legs with a hockey stick. Francis Bonnefoy flirts endlessly with everyone and Arthur Kirkland is the traitor."

"I beg your pardon?"

The blonde shyly looked up at him from under her bangs.

"The traitor. You're the one that betrayed Prince Alfred. The one with a bounty over his head."

Bloody hell.

"_Cagna, diavolo non!_ Where's the bastard? I'll kill him! I swear!"

"So then the whole forgiveness thing was a lie." Arthur muttered. He snatched up his messenger bag, scowling. The bell rang, signaling the end of their lunch period.

"I'll see you lot later." He said shortly. Before Alfred could even turn to look at him, the Brit was gone.

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

Twas the day before their Thanksgiving break began, when all through the halls, everybody was talking about Lina Zwingli and her small rebellion from the social hierarchy. It was the latest gossip, happening just two periods ago.

Annoyed, Arthur glared at anyone who tried to question him about it.

'_They're all so annoying. Don't they have something better to do? The poor girl must be in hysterics by now.'_

Indeed, Lina was in hysterics. Surrounded by Elizaveta, Katyusha and her friend Monique, she was crying her eyes out in an abandoned classroom while Vash frantically searched for her.

But Arthur didn't need to know this. He had his own problems to deal with.

He went into the men's room just to wash his hands, but received an entire team of athletes following him in. He got suspicious when they all crowded around him. The scent of danger was smothering him, making his heart pound. With deft fingers, he texted a short message to Romano. The Brit barely managed to slip his phone into his messenger bag before the leader, a buff black haired football player with steel gray eyes, leaned in uncomfortably close to his face.

"If it isn't Kirkland."

Arthur did not give the Junior the satisfaction of a reaction. No matter how much the jock's breath reeked of garlic, the Brit refused to climb into the nearest stall and hurl.

"Do I know you?"

"Allow me to remind you."

And a fist connected with Arthur jaw.

What happened after that was hazy. The punk seemed to drift away from reality as an enraged haze took over him, clouding his vision. He threw a clean right hook, the blow affecting even his own knuckles as he caught skin. Then the cronies came in.

It was six against one. Arthur had no chance. Everywhere sparked with pain as he was kicked, punched and spat on. He fought back of course, but his experience with real fights was that of an amateur.

Draco wasn't that brutal.

He had a nice collection of cuts before the door slammed open and more teens came running in. Dread almost made Arthur collapse, and then he recognized a mop of white hair.

"You're late." He muttered, spitting out bloody phlegm. Gil kicked the nearest burly blonde into a stall, where Francis proceeded to give him a terrible swirly. He pulled Arthur away from the battle, taking a second to examine him.

"Better late than never. We…Aw, fuck we can't get you home looking like that."

The albino caught a punch, but wasn't able to stop a kick to his stomach. Antonio jumped the assailant, crashing into a wall. Gil was quick to get up and help him beat the athlete into submission.

A wet hand caught Arthur's wrist. He instinctively wrenched his hand away, but let his fist fall to his side when he saw his captor.

"Relax mon ami. We're getting you out. The teachers are coming."

In a single motion, Francis hoisted Arthur up to an open window. Before the punk jumped the two feet drop to the ground, he saw the Junior that started it all. With a deep gash on his left cheek, he looked even more menacing.

"_Watch your back Kirkland! We'll-!"_

He fell to his knees and ran. His stomach did all sorts of stunts, a wave of nausea overcoming him. Leaning against a metal pole, he retched into the nearest trash can, both nerves and sickness getting the best of him. The boy sank to the ground, angry at everything from stupid popularity ranks to the old friend he thought he made up with.

_Watch out for yourself and whatever you care about. I see a great war in your future._

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

"A fight! A fucking fight! Are you guys serious? Do you want to get expelled? God damn Gilbert! I've talked to you again and again about this! How the hell are you going to cover it up this time you dumbass?"

The albino shamefully looked away from the girl screaming in front of him.

"I wore gloves."

"Gloves don't cut it! Antonio, Francis, you two said you'd try to stop him next time! If the school calls his parents up then that's it! He's done! And you dragged Arthur into it too! How the hell-?"

"It wasn't their fault."

The Beilschmidt's basement went silent as Elizaveta stopped her rant.

All four boys sat as she tended to their wounds. Gil, sporting terrible bruises on his knuckles and stomach, lay down flat on the old leather couch, staring at the ceiling. Antonio sat in Arthur's previous emotional corner, examining a gash on his calf. Francis was in the black lawn chair, trying to rinse the blood out of his blonde hair with a bowl of water Elizaveta gave him.

Arthur, carrying the most cuts, scrapes, discolored bruises and a black eye, was the one that needed the most attention.

"What happened Arthur?"

He looked at the ground as she dabbed his numerous cuts with disinfectant.

"I…I'm not sure. I was going to the bathroom and these athletes came in and…we just fought."

Gentle hands paused.

"Did they threaten you? What did they say?"

"Just for," he coughed violently, spitting another ball of bloody saliva into a tissue.

"Just for me to _'Watch my back.'_"

Antonio winced as his friend was subdued with another round of dry hacking, and spit up more bloody liquid.

"Uh, I'd get that checked _vato_. That sounds serious."

Arthur shook his head.

"It's not my organs or anything. It's my inner cheek. I bit down really hard on it when I was punched. The blood kind of flows to the back, mixes with snot and tries to choke me so I-."

"Enough information. Let me see your other leg."

Arthur rolled up his bloody jeans.

"Just when I decided I would keep this too. Sorry Eliza."

"'s fine," The girl grunted. "We can just rip them if the stains don't come out easily."

"They went all out on you huh Artsy?"

"Well you have to wear bandages on your hands."

Gil looked at his fabric-wrapped palms, shrugging.

"I've been through worse. But they basically ignored us and kept going back to you. For some reason, you were the target."

"I think we all know that reason."

Sharply, Arthur looked at Antonio. The Spaniard seemed uncharacteristically aggravated. His green eyes seemed to be five shades darker as he studied the Brit with a scowl.

"Oh great," Elizaveta groaned. "If Toni's pissed then he's gonna go look for a fight-."

"No one beats up mis amigos without punishment. It's not fair."

"They'll get caught Toni." Francis said shortly. The Spaniard leered at the wall now.

"But they will not get the same penalty as us."

"That's it. Someone call Romano. Lord knows he's the only one that can fix him."

Gil pulled out his phone. Contemplatively, Arthur looked around.

"I texted Romano earlier, not you guys. What happened to him?"

"His grandfather was already throwing him in the car so he called Antonio." Francis explained, wincing as his sprained wrist moved.

"He says he'll be here-."

_"Chigi! You bastards!"_

"Now." Gilbert finished lamely.

The teen tore into the room, clad in a oversized red t-shirt, black sweatpants, and tomato-adorned socks. Judging by his casual wear and the red rims under his eyes, the boy was asleep when Gil called him over. Unfortunately, this meant hell for all of them.

The Italian marched right over to Antonio and poured alcohol into the wound, ignoring the Spaniard's cries of pain.

"I told you to get in there and get out with Arthur. Plain and simple. I'm asleep, Gil tells me to come over and I find you with a fucking knife wound-!"

"It was actually a pair of scissors."

"I don't give a fuck!" Romano yelled, scrubbing the gash.

If Antonio's scream were anything to go by, Arthur's fear when Romano approached him was completely justified.

"How are you SB?"

"Non sto morendo. I'm not dying." He warily eyed the disinfectant bottle in the freshman's hand. Seeing this, the Italian swiped it in front of his face, laughing when the blonde flinched.

"Aww Roma's teaching him Italian!" Antonio's mood brightened when Romano abused him. Masochistic much? They all believed so.

"How's Grandpa Vargas?"

Romano rolled his eyes.

"A bitch to deal with as always. But it looks like you've got bigger problems. You can't go home like that."

"Manover at my house?" Antonio offered. The boys whooped and cheered. This sounded quite pitiful, however, and seemed more like a chorus of dying cats.

"Can I come? I want to make sure you don't screw around with that black eye." The girl cautiously pressed a wrapped ice pack against the injury. "You've never had one before right Arthur?"

Gilbert wouldn't buy her excuses.

"Hell no you can't come. You're a cow." He said at the same time as Francis replied, "Of course mon chere. You're safe with us."

Elizaveta looked from Gil to Franny, slightly wary.

"I'm rooming with Arthur and Romano. The gay guy and his best friend are always the safest options."

The Italian snickered, mocking the boys as she turned back to Arthur. Eliza craned the blonde's face every way possible, biting her lip as she eyed the damage done to it.

"You'll have stay out of your house for the next two days. I can put concealer on the eye when the swelling goes down."

"Thanks Eliza. For everything."

"Well thanks for making me come to Gilbert's when I'm supposed to be eating dinner."

She smiled to show that she was simply teasing. He would have grinned back, but the muscles in his face ached too much for any expression.

"Are you two coming or not?" Gilbert called.

Arthur, bloodstained and tired, offered a hand out to Elizaveta. Together, they walked out into the night, closing the door on any civility they had had left.

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

"Yeah, Mum? I'm staying with the Carriedo's for the night. Sorry, I know I'm late. We're having a manov...I'm with Romano, Antonio, Francis, Elizaveta, and Gilbert. Yeah, manover-that's what guys call sleepovers- We're having a manover. No Elizaveta won't room with Francis. Love you mumsy. I'll be home by curfew tomorrow. Do you want to talk to Mrs. Carriedo?"

"Yo Matt? Can you bring some clothes for Arthur to wear home? We're at Toni's…You're jackass brother should know what happened. So unawesome Matt. You won't believe it. Come over, we're having a manover. Make sure Arthur's mom doesn't catch you….Just make up some excuse. Love you birdie."

"Maman, I'm at Toni's for the night. Lock all the doors and windows. Remember your medicine…Are you sure you'll be okay by yourself? I could…Oui…Oui. Alright, _Je t'aime Mere_."

"Andris? It's Liz. Is Dad home? Tell him that I'm staying at Toni's house…Hell no. I'll gut you in your sleep if you try that. Just…You're an ass. Screw you."

"Feli, I'm at Antonio's. Goodbye."

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

Compared to the others, Antonio's house was more homely. The scent that wafted through the house reminded Arthur of a bakery: sweet and warm. The walls were a dark tan, and held portraits both new and old, whips, and _Vaquero_ hats on display. Even at night, the house seemed bright, as if it held an eternal source of sunshine. The resonance the clay floor tiles made as you walked through the house was intriguing. You would have to stop yourself from standing in one spot and stomping your feet if you weren't used to the noise.

The sound of children laughing and running about surprised Arthur.

"I thought you didn't have any siblings." He said as they walked passed the dining room.

The Spaniard smiled as the laughter became louder.

"No, but I have lots of cousins. Lots and lots."

An army of children erupted from the hallway, making a beeline for Antonio. Arthur spied flashes of green as they passed. The eldest children were at most 12 years of age, and the youngest seemed no older than 3.

"Big Brother Toni!" The kids chorused, climbing onto the teen.

"Buenos noches Rodriguez, Abril, Tavio, Juliet, Leonardo, Vanessa, Zerlina, Pablo, Marco, Romeo, and little Keisha."

"Look at how big my turtle has gotten Toni!"

"No, look at mine!"

"Tavio hit me today!"

"My turtle ate Tía Marrisa's curtains today!"

"Why is there such a cut on your leg?"

"Oh no, did an eagle come down from the mountains and attack you?"

"No Zerlina. You've been reading too many stories. I have to go chicos. I have mis amigos here see? I need to hang out with them today."

The children clambered off of him, arguing about their pet turtles. A little girl remained however. Biting one of her russet pigtails, she hugged Antonio about the knee.

"Will you still read me a bedtime story?"

"Yes Z. I'll come by around nine if you're not asleep."

The girl nodded and ran off to join her cousins. Romano scoffed when Antonio returned.

"Softie."

"Yes Roma. I'll read you a story too."

"Bas...Teppista!"

"Aww, Romano's censoring himself for the kids."

"Shut it Gil."

The group walked up the steps rather slowly. Romano slung Arthur's arm over his shoulder, helping the Brit get up first.

"They screwed you up."

"Please don't kill me if I spit up blood on your _expensive, imported straight from Venice, _sneakers."

"You're such a…hater."

"Wow. You're serious about not cursing in this house."

Deviously, Romano pushed Arthur into the door of Antonio's room.

"My back! Go to hell Romano!"

The Italian pulled the blonde into a chair and flicked his nose.

"I just came back from hell actually. Grandpa Vargas says hello."

The boy continued to push and prod Arthur as the others walked in.

"Mum! He's bullying me!"

"Romano, stop bullying your brother. He's had enough of that for today."

"He's had enough for a lifetime." Gilbert grumbled, kicking off his shoes and clambering on Antonio's bed.

"I'm sorry guys," The Brit said after a pause. "I shouldn't have dragged you-."

"Bullshit. We fight those guys all the time, and win awesomely of course."

"But they never give up," Francis frowned. "If anything, we should be apologizing to you mon ami. By making you one of us, we pulled you into our battles."

"There's going to be more?"

"There's been many, and they will continue to be many until we graduate."

Then the group told gruesome tales of battles, backstabbings and pranks that went on right under Arthur's nose. Gradually, they fed the fire of rebellion in him, unknowingly turning him into one the most useful warriors they could ever receive.

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

Matthew arrived sometime around 8, bringing soup that Antonio's mom had made.

"Chicken Noodle Soup: The Best Remedy for a scarred soul. Drink Kirkland. You need it."

Showered and properly dressed, the group tried to bandage their wounds tight for the night. Elizaveta was already in the guest room, talking to Roderich over the phone, leaving the boys to tend to themselves. Arthur steadied the ice on his eye, taking a sip of the soup. Matthew was carefully unwrapping Gil's hands, frowning all the while.

"I cannot believe Al got them to fight you."

"We don't know it was Al." Arthur defended.

"Who else could it be? Head athlete gets pissed because his best friend insults him so he sends his cronies to beat up prior best friend. It's so cliché that it's right up my cousin's alley." Francis's voice was bitter as he eyed a small cut on right next to his ear. If it scarred, his flawless face would be ruined!

"He probably saw something similar in a movie. Maple! What happened to your hands Gil?"

Arthur glanced around with slight guilt. Tiredly, he sighed.

"I need some sleep. Thanks for everything today. Good Night."

He took up his dish and snuck downstairs. In record speed for a cripple, he placed his soup bowl in the kitchen sink and limped back up the stairs. He found Elizaveta already claiming one of the two beds when he finished brushing his teeth. The girl's nose was deep in a copy of _City of Glass_, vaguely reminding of a certain aura-reading boy He figured he could sneak around her, but Elizaveta's perception was impeccable.

"I almost cried today."

Arthur stopped in his tracks. Weary, he glanced back at the girl.

"Why?"

"They tend to fight until they have to be driven to a hospital. When Gil called and said you were really hurt, I completely lost it."

"There's no need to worry. I'm fine Eli."

The girl tore her eyes away from her book.

"Are you really?" He couldn't reply.

"I," She faltered as she tried to find the right words. "I care for you Artie."

"What?"

"Not like that! God, they hit your head hard. I mean, as a best friend, motherly type of love. I know we started this whole thing as more of a business partnership to help you get Al, but it can't be like that anymore." She looked him in the eye. The Brit saw sincerity softening her gaze as she bit her lip.

"We're terribly good friends now, and I have to help you with anything I can, and warn you about what may harm you." Arthur thought he knew where she was going with this. He stiffened, expecting to hear more speculation about Alfred's role in the fight. Elizaveta, however, managed to surprise him.

"Find out the truth for yourself Arthur. Keep the facts close and push away opinions. That's the surefire way to go about things. Good night."

And with that, the entire conversation ended. She simply turned her back to him, turning out the lights by clapping twice. It took hours for Arthur to fall asleep. His eye ached and when Romano arrived, he kept kicking his bruised legs. But his mind had the worse of it. He was angry at Al before, but he knew Alfred didn't do it. He couldn't hurt a fly. The entire assumption seemed off. But if Alfred didn't do it, then who did?

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

I love picking on Arthur. A bit too much it seems, since I've torn him apart. I think the S.S's attention is going to be drawn more to the attackers than Alfred. But the hero will get a chapter or two of his own so he won't be completely abandoned.

I've always seen Liechtenstein as the type who would dislike gossiping and Elizaveta as the tomboy who would find it stupid and completely useless. (No time to gossip if you can go play football with your brother.) So those two clicked for me. If at any time Lina seems OOC please critique me on it. I've never really used her or the Nordics before.

Thank you so much for the critiques, reviews, faves and alerts! It's great to know that you guys like this story. (80 reviews and 99 alerts! That's a new record for me!)

_Preview:__ Gil, Elizaveta, Arthur and Romano decide to run around the mall with Lina for the day, looking for concealer for Arthur's eye. But when they spot Vash at the Luxia, what shall they do? Especially when they don't want the Hall Monitor learning about their fight. And why in the world does Tino want to have dinner with Arthur?_


	10. 9: Dance, Dance

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Hetalia, Fall Out Boy, Victoria's Secret, Hot Topic, or frozen yogurt.

_**Chapter 9: Dance, Dance**_

An unsettling feeling boiled within him. He hadn't felt that sensation in a long while. (Since he was 6 years old to be exact) The adrenaline rush when you were doing something your mother certainly would not approve of. The sinking feeling when you dreaded the moment you would get caught.

"We shouldn't be doing this."

He had finally said it. He looked straight into amber eyes as he did this to show that he was being serious.

"Chigi! Shut up and go faster. No one asked for your opinion."

A head of blonde rested on Romano Vargas's shoulder.

"What if Antonio finds us?"

"Who cares? Crap, now it's all over the place! Suck it off!"

Arthur eyed the ice-cream on Romano's finger warily.

"You can do that yourself."

The Italian groaned, falling onto the floor with a huff. He flailed for a minute or two, knocking himself into empty cartons of the frozen dessert.

"I'm full. Finish it SB. It'll put some fat on your bones."

Arthur frowned, nauseated, as he looked over the carton of rocky road and questioned why they decided to wake up early to eat the monstrosity.

It was all Romano's fault really. His endless kicks to Arthur's legs finally caused the Brit to snap and push him off the bed. Pissed off, the Italian proceeded to curse him out using every vulgar word in the book. Arthur, naturally, cursed right back. This infuriated the Italian even further which made him jump on the Brit, wrestling with skinny, bony limbs. The two only stopped when Elizaveta threatened to stir. When Arthur complained about his wounds opening and burning like hell, Romano had the bright idea of pressing frozen ice cream boxes on his friend's wounds.

This bright idea somehow led to the two of them stripping down to their boxes, lying in a bed of frozen ice cream, and munching to their heart's content. The American dream.

"Why the bloody hell does he have so much ice cream anyway?"

Romano belched, scratching his slightly bulbous stomach.

"Did you see those kids? This is the only way he gets them to shut up."

"Then we really shouldn't be doing this." Romano looked around the room.

"We left them half a carton." He stated, waving the concern off. "Hell, we're doing them a favor. Child obesity is on the rise in America. The boys will probably be able to be fine with it but the girls will be insecure fucks by the time they hit 16."

Arthur punched the Italian's arm.

"That's stereotypical. Not all girls care that much about their body."

"If one of them doesn't have an eating disorder, or she overcomes one, then I will give that chick a pat on the pack and a gold star. Strong girls that bitch-slap their issues are my favorite."

"Ooh, you have a type now. What's your favorite type of lad then?"

The Italian gave him a long look, then smirked.

"I love heavy European accents," He purred, leaning near Arthur's ear. "And blondes. Especially smart blondes that take AP classes."

"So...Ludwig?"

Romano choked. "Damn you!"

He grinned cheekily as the teen turned a bright red.

"I don't think Feliciano would approve of that Romano. I mean Ludwig is his boy-."

"Don't. Just don't."

Something about his comrade's tone struck Arthur as odd. His amusement died down as Romano averted his eyes and scowled. Something in his chest felt like it was deflating. Was that his heart softening? Or was he about to die from ice cream overdose? If he were about to kick the bucket, then Romano should probably be comforted. Just so he could focus on Arthur's deceased state instead of his own problems. It's not like Arthur felt the responsibility to make him feel better or anything! He just needed someone to call the mortician! He didn't care about the Italian's frown!

...He did damn it.

"Romano, I-."

"_Shut up cow! If you fucking ruin this for me I swear I'll-!_ Crap, they beat us!"

In walked the one and only Gilbert Beilschmidt, dressed similarly to Arthur and Romano, wearing only his black Hanes boxers. His ruby red eyes scrutinized the scene, taking in the damage.

"Great minds think alike," he concluded. He snapped his bandaged fingers and pointed at Arthur.

"Hand me a spoon and that ice cream. I need at least five scoops to be satisfied."

"What about Elizaveta albino bastard? She won't have any to eat because you decided you would pig out."

The girl stepped forward in a pair of sweatpants, Uggs, and a hoodie. Her brown locks were held up in a messy bun, sticking out at odd angles. Staring at the dark rims under her green eyes, Arthur questioned whether she slept at all.

"I don't need any," she said. Her low, tired tone confirmed Arthur's theory. "I'll just grab a bite to eat later. Get showered and dressed Artie. We need to buy concealer for that thing."

The Brit stood, stretched, and cautiously enveloped his best female friend in an embrace.

"You ought to stay and rest love. You look bloody knackered."

"I don't even know what you just said." She deadpanned. "I'm leaving in ten minutes Artie. If I buy the wrong shade of concealer, you'll look like you spray tanned one eye."

His nose crinkled. "Eww."

"Yeah. Now go put on some clothes."

He didn't release her, instead staring deep into her lethargic green irises. Boldly, he pressed a swift peck to her cheek and let her go.

"Make sure she gets some sleep Gilbert. Slip some ten minute sleeping pills into her ice cream or something. And clean up this mess. You should feel ashamed of yourself."

The albino gave him a salute, pushing whatever was left of the ice cream to the girl, encouraging her to eat and choke. The Brit hesitated for a second, lingering to stare at the kitchen scene.

Romano got out of his own mini-depression to help Elizaveta get to sleep. Wasn't that what they all did? Whenever one of them was distressed, they instinctively went into a familial state and assisted to the best of their ability.

For some reason, pride bloomed in his chest. He was part of that group. He was part of that family of friends.

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

They ended leaving 20 minutes later, around 9 AM. Gilbert and Romano decided at the last minute that they too wished to join them and weren't able to stop fussing with their look.

"You look fine." Arthur assured when Romano wouldn't stop adjusting his leather jacket.

"This is _expensive Italian_ leather! Not making it look hot is disrespect!"

"To who?" The Brit asked exasperatedly. He winced as the cold morning air hit his sore eye.

"Jesus."

"What?"

"I kid. It has to look good though."

"Let me guess, you want to catch the attention of a smart blonde that takes AP classes with an alluring, thick German accent."

Gilbert guffawed while Elizaveta choked. Arthur laughed as Romano turned into an interesting shade of red.

"B-But that means you like Lu-!"

"Chigi! Shut the hell up! I don't damn it! It was a damn joke! Hurry up bastards! Before we miss the fucking bus!"

The blonde grinned as the Italian sped up, Gil close behind. The albino continued to pester the brunette about Ludwig, causing Romano to yell and rant. As always, seeing Romano flustered was amusing.

When he risked a side glance at Elizaveta, his pleasure faded.

"Are you alright lass? You seem tense."

"Have you ever noticed that you use British slang when you're worried. It's cute. Keep that habit."

"Don't try and change the subject."

She didn't reply. Arthur was almost okay with this. She would speak eventually. If he were a good friend, he would wait for her and listen when she finally felt comfortable with talking. But Arthur considered her as a best friend, and best friends go above and beyond.

If she didn't talk by tomorrow, he'd force it out of her and destroy whatever caused her to lose sleep.

The sound of his phone interrupted his musings. With a grimace, he read the caller I.D.

_ I could not pick up, but then she may get angrier._

With dread deep in his heart, he picked up the phone to talk with his mumsy.

"Good Morning Mum...Yes. Yes, I know...I'm going to the Luxia actually...What?...Bloody hell, I forgot! Sorry Mum. Can we...Can we do it tomorrow? Please? I've got to run. Love you Mumsy. Goodbye."

Crap. He was supposed to visit his father's grave!

"What was that about?"

"She just wanted to remind me of my obligations."

Elizaveta nodded. "Okay then. Oh, hey, put these on."

She handed him a pair of sunglasses.

"For the eye."

"I know."

Frowning at his tone, she continued.

"Lina's going to meet us on the bus guys. Be an insensitive ass and I will kill you. I'm looking at you Mr. Vargas."_  
><em>

Romano scowled, planting his feet into the ground. They all watched the cars pass by the curb, wrapped in their thoughts.

He wanted to talk to Alfred. Desperately. It was amazing how he could suddenly realize something important. He had to clarify what the entire fight was about. After the movie, he thought he and Al could...But, that wasn't possible. He'd talk to the blonde just to clarify what happened and leave it at that.

His place was with the Sophomore Slumps. That was for sure. It may take him a while to get close to all of them, but it would be worth it. He'd know all of them like the back of his hand by the end of his Sophomore year.

"SB! God damn watch out!"

A hand shoved Arthur forward, shocking him out of his state. They had crossed the street? Since when? A red car honked, expressing it's rage. Shortly after, the driver flipped them the bird, which they all responded to with the two fingered salute.

"Watch where you're going dumbass! God, I almost had a fucking heart attack." Romano said, breathless. Arthur, a bit windless himself, patted his freshman on the shoulder. The Italian found away to crawl onto the Brit's back, commanding the blonde to give him a piggyback ride.

"Gay!"

Once again, the two fingered salute was tossed toward a total stranger.

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

They all stuck out like a sore thumb on the bus. Elizaveta was in her corner of the bus looking a stoned University student, chilling in her sweats and burying her face in her knees to avoid any unnecessary attention. Romano shone in his skin tight clothes, looking like some self-assured famous actor, and the way he was beaming and winking at the girls was certainly flirtatious. He might as well have tattooed _'I'm rich, Italian, and a great kisser' _on his forehead. Gilbert had one side of his headphones on, music blaring out of the device. He rested his boot-clad feet by Arthur's thigh, poking the blonde every so often. The rips and safety pins in his own jacket were strategically placed. Add a wicked smirk to the mix, and you had the intimidating, yet attractive bad boy that every one stared at when they thought he wasn't looking. Arthur had at least tried to look normal, but red skinny jeans, a checkered belt and a G-Star jacket didn't really blend in. Not to mention his and Gil's wounds.

Even Lina looked slightly out of place in her gray winter dress and black stockings. Like some poor, British orphan kicked out onto the streets and forced to fight with terrifying canines for the food in the only dumpster unoccupied in London, beside a restaurant well known for providing great scraps.

The pitying look she gave him only made it worse.

"I can't believe someone did that to you. That's so cruel."

"Do you have any idea who did it blondie? It'll help us out alot."

She briefly pondered over Gil's question, staring down at her Uggs.

"No. The girls usually stick with gossip and the boys usually make sure that they're leading the pack when they get into fights."

"I didn't recognize any of them though."

The girl shrugged. "I suppose they could have been sent. Who do you think sent them?"

"Alfred." Gilbert said when Arthur hesitated. To their surprise, the girl chuckled.

"Mr. Jones is much too proud to send people to do his dirty work. He believes in nobility and honor. If someone has an issue with him, and they can't settle it through negotiation, he'll fight his battle by himself. He only fights in groups when someone is getting bullied. All of the athletes are ready to follow his commands though, so he is an option. I sincerely doubt it though."

"So there's no one else?"

"Well, if Mr. Kirk-, I mean Arthur, only had an issue with Mr. Jones, then maybe someone that cares deeply for him sent them out. Since Mr. Jones wouldn't do anything to you, they took it upon themselves to punish you. From what I know, you have to be at least a Duke or Duchess to send anyone to fulfill a task. So that narrows it down a bit."

"What is Tino?" Arthur questioned.

"Court Jester."

"Ah, I see."

She gave him that pitying look again.

"Everyone in the Monarchy cares for Prince Alfred. He's the crowned prince, soon to be the King when Sadiq graduates. The girls want to be with him so they can be queen and the boys want to be best friends with him to be the next famous prince."

"But that's not caring for him at all!" Arthur objected, a protective anger rising in him. "They're using him!"

"He knows this, and trusts few. Ever since you left, he's been hanging around Tino, Sadiq and the Duchesses alot. He seems to truly like them, and they share the feeling."

That was exactly what he didn't want to hear. Frowning, Arthur took up the same position Elizaveta had and sat through the rest of the ride in silence.

Damn, their school was fucked up.

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

The Luxia was busy with teenagers and adults alike. With Thanksgiving in two days, last minute food and dress shopping to impress the family was being held. The youths escaped this to meet up with their friends before their parents locked them inside the house with numerous relatives.

"We're only here for concealer guys. We'll be in and out, and maybe we'll catch a movie."

"Mein Gott! The Academy Store has a new collection of crayons! 100 crayons Lizzy! So many colors! Like a motherfucking rainbow!"

"I'll throw bitches out of the way to get to that Armani Exchange sale, I swear. I bet they're not even Italian."

Elizaveta shared a look with Lina, and sighed.

"Or we could go where you guys want to go, and then buy the concealer."

That was how they ended up spending the better part of an hour subject to Gil's fancy for colored wax and Romano's picky choice in clothing. The only way they managed to get the Italian away from fighting with a ginger over a jacket was by pointing out how Elizaveta's mood was steadily getting worse.

"I'm Italian damn it. I should get dibs on Italian clothes first. Not some Weasley child."

"You'll get over it soon enough." Arthur assured. The group stopped at the door of Victoria's Secret. Elizaveta and Arthur kept walking, as if it were nothing, but Romano and Gil stayed back.

"What's wrong with you two?" Lina asked, slightly concerned.

"As a bisexual virgin with a boyfriend, I don't think being in that store with do my hormones any good."

"As a sexually confused virgin, I don't think my eyes are ready to see such sights."

The girl kept a hand before her mouth, passing off her laughter as a cough. With a twinkle in her eye, she waved to signal her departure.

"She's nice."

"Yeah, for a member of The Monarchy." Romano criticized.

"Well, we took Arthur from The Monarchy too dude, and he's almost as awesome as me."

"Yeah but the French Bastard knew he was different from the rest of them. Even he's skeptical of her."

"The cow trusts her."

"Do you know why?"

Gilbert stared down at the freshman, stuffing his hands in his pockets to keep them warm.

"Something happened the day Arthur got into a fight in the girl's bathroom. I don't know what, but Elizaveta trusts her because of that.

"If she makes a single mistake, she's on my hit list."

"Give her a chance. She could be a pretty awesome chick and-. Holy shit!"

The albino jumped a foot into the air, getting paler by the second. He grabbed Romano's hand and rushed him inside the store they had feared before. The two crouched by a plastic model.

"What is it potato head? Let go of me you bastard!"

Romano ripped his wrist away. Gil kept tapping his shoulder to get his attention, and pointed across the way at...Build A Bear Workshop?

"What the hell am I looking at?"

"Preppers man! Preppers!"

"What?"

The freshman squinted, leering at the Workshop with all his might. That's when he saw him.

"Oh my god...Is that Zwingli?"

"Yeah. That's Vash."

"Is he...He's holding a pink teddy bear!"

"Yeah. A 16 inch Pink Cuddly Hearts Bear."

Romano didn't question how Gil knew that.

"He's...Crap! He saw us! He's coming this way!"

The two got up and bolted, searching frantically for their companions. They found the three at the cash register, finishing their purchase. Gil grabbed Arthur, rushing him away.

"We've gotta go!"

"Wait! Gil, Elizaveta hasn't finished paying!"

"Is there a back exit or something? We need to get out of here damn it!"

By now, people were staring. Elizaveta, with a fierce blush, asked,

"What in the world is wrong with you two?"

Wild-eyed, Gilbert tried to tug her away from the cash register.

"Vash is coming!"

At that, she threw down the money and ran with the rest of them.

"Keep the change!" She yelled back at the confused clerk. There was in fact, a back exit of Victoria's Secret, leading them into a tea cafe. The scent of herbs and baked goods attacked Arthur's nose, enticing him to stay longer. He was ready to sit down and enjoy the sophisticated atmosphere when they were approached.

"You kids aren't supposed to be back here aru!"

They all, almost fearfully, looked up into the face of the owner. He frowned disapprovingly, dark brown eyes squinting down at them. His hair was tied back in a long ponytail. He seemed to be hard at work, judging by the stains on his white apron.

"Sorry Yao," Ah, so he was Chinese. "We needed to make a quick getaway." Elizaveta explained, gesturing for her friends to continue running.

"So you came from the sex shop to come hide in my honorable restaurant! I think not Elizaveta! You and I are old friends, but I must ask you to leave! Do not return until you have purged out all of dishonor that place has planted in you aru!"

"Yes sir! Run guys!"

And so they did. However, as soon as they exited the store...

"Hey! You guys!"

Arthur didn't need to be told to run as fast as he could. He did so naturally. He could spy the other blonde merely steps behind them.

"Split up," he whispered into Romano's ear. The Italian nodded and grabbed Lina's arm, veering off to the left. Gilbert kept running, while Elizaveta followed Arthur.

"Let's head to Leah's. She should be able to hide us."

The two ran until they mixed in with a large crowd. Arthur grabbed Elizaveta's hand. He didn't want to lose her. Warily, he glanced around. There was no sign of the blonde male anywhere. That was good. If the hall monitor saw their injuries and reported them, they were doomed. He didn't even want to think about what would happen when he found out that they had his little sister.

They eased themselves out of the crowd as they approached the hairdresser's salon.

"Lizzyveta!"

"Lilo-Leah!"

The two embraced.

"What's up babydoll?"

"Yao kicked us out of his place, so we came to hide here. We're avoiding this guy named Vash. Cute guy, nice, not over the top muscles, shoulder length blonde hair, and green eyes. Oh, he has the flag of Switzerland embroidered into his jacket. Tell us if you see him 'kay?"

"Roger that." Leah said with a wink.

The hairdresser looked as fresh as ever in her artist jeans and off-the shoulder shirt. Her brown eyes still contained a bright light when she looked upon Arthur, matching her smile. She and Elizaveta thought alike that morning, both deciding to walk around with their hair in a messy bun.

"Artie, let's see that hair of yours." He complied and bent his head forward, letting her rake her hands through his locks.

"Your highlights look fine. Your normal color is starting to overpower it though. It's been two weeks right? Come back in another two if you want me to redo it."

"Actually, I'm considering dying my tips."

"What? You never told me about this!"

The Brit shrugged. "I didn't think I'd be visiting Leah's for a while. It was only a thought even. I thought Avril Lavigne looked good with her new green streak, so I was considering dying my tips green... or violet. Maybe both if I want to dip dye it."

To his surprise, Elizaveta punched him.

"How dare you think about punking it out without my consent!" He rubbed his arm, bewildered as she proceeded to hug him.

"Do you really want to? I'm proud that you're making your own choices, but I don't want you to rush into anything."

He returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "I'm pretty positive that I want to dye it. It'll look good with my clothes. Besides, if I end up loathing it, I can always cut it can't I? Unlike girls, most guys don't need long hair."

"I'm willing to do it Liz. I've been dreaming of the day I can work with another crazy dye job. The fact that he's a boy and blonde only makes it better."

"Not today though. Oh, hey, there's a concert coming up that I wanted us to go to! We could get it done a few days before that!"

"Who's playing?" Leah asked, as she moved a customer from the dryer.

"All Time Low. Paramore is opening for them."

"Paramore? I don't think I'm familiar with them."

The girl brought him over to a chair and took a magazine from the rack.

"Romano, Francis and I like them. Antonio's impartial, but he likes All Time Low. Gil hates them, but he's willing to go. Then Matt adores them. We're all different. No one is going to judge you for whether you like or dislike them. Oh, the latest edition of Ink Magazine!"

Arthur looked over her shoulder at the different body artworks, impressed.

"Gil could probably get in this."

"Heh. He won't send anything in. He likes to think his art isn't good enough."

"Our Gil? His Awesomeness?"

"Somewhere in his subconscious, he knows that he is good enough. But until we convince him to send his art in, he's going to keep everything in his sketchbook."

_Knock-Knock_.

They both turned away from the magazine, wincing when they saw a male teen with a blonde bob cut. Thankfully, Leah quickly blocked them from his view, talking loudly all the while.

"Good Afternoon sir! Name please! Vash Zwingli? I'm afraid I don't have you down as an appointment! Your sister? What's her name? Lina? I haven't seen her today. Are you sure you have-? People kidnapped her and brought her here? What an imagination you have! What are these people's names? Yeah, I know an Elizaveta. Yeah, she came over today with a blonde with green eyes, but he was a boy...They _should_ be long gone by now."

"Let's go." Eliza whispered. The two held a magazine in front of their faces, walking out the door as fast as they could.

"Send Romano and Gil a text that they should meet us in Hot Topic. Zane can hide us in the back."

Quickly, they climbed aboard the escalator. Risking a peek back, Arthur spied Vash walking out of the salon, glancing about warily.

"How does he know that you're close with Leah?"

"That's what I'm worried about. You don't think...Never mind."

The girl turned away, ending her part in the conversation. But Arthur could tell that there was much more that she wanted to say.

"If you have a theory, I won't laugh at it. Come on lass, you can tell me anything."

She sighed. "I guess I'm just really paranoid, but what if there are people following us? Like the guys from yesterday? What if they somehow knew that we're here and are just waiting for us to leave so that they can-?"

"Then I'll protect you." He said firmly, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. She smiled weakly, murmuring a soft thanks.

Zane was glad to see them. His blue eyes stared at Arthur with what was identified as humor.

"Hey Eliza Thornberry. What's up Spike?"

"Spike?"

Zane gestured toward the blonde's hair the pointed at a glass window. Embarrassed, Arthur tried to flatten down the messy spikes that he somehow managed to form while he was running.

"Leave them alone. I think they look sexy."

"Like he wants to hear that from you Zane."

The teen raised a brow, smirking. "Do you want me to hide you or not?"

And so they were crammed into the backroom, which contained all sorts of crazy merchandise. When Romano and Gilbert arrived with Lina, they scoured the racks, trying various items on and fooling around in general.

"I never knew you had pierced ears." Arthur said when Gilbert tried on a black stud.

"I have three on my right and one on my left. The cow has a nose piercing. We got them done at the same place as my tattoo... Yeah Romano work that pleated skirt!"

The Italian shook his arse teasingly before taking up a pair of jeans.

"Invader Zim!" Lina exclaimed. The girl hugged the shirts and necklace to herself, squealing all the while.

"I used to watch this show while doing my sewing. Brother used to come and watch with me. He didn't like Gir that much though."

They spent about two hours in that back room. It was around 6 p.m when they decided they could safely exit the store. Zane looked from them, to the merchandise in their hand, and back up again.

"You gonna pay for all that?"

"YES SIR!" Elizaveta, Gilbert and Romano chorused. Lina laughed sheepishly and Arthur drooped, putting stuff back where they belonged. When he came back out of the warehouse, however, Lina was still hugging all of her merchandise.

"How did she-?"

"I gave her a discount. I give all pretty girls discounts." Zane leaned forward, staring at the girl with half-lidded eyes. Lina blushed, sight down-turned.

"I paid for it after he gave her a discount. I pay whenever a pretty girl is in need." Romano said, hooking his arm around the girl's waist.

"I thought you were sexually confused." Arthur deadpanned.

"I had a revelation in that closet room and believe that I may be gay. Allow me a day of being straight just so I can be sure that I'm not actually bisexual."

"We could go to Victoria's Secret to check on that."

With a wicked grin, the Sophomore drove his friend out of the store, relishing his friend's kicking and screaming the entire time. The others followed, stuck in their own conversation. It was all laughs and yelps, along with that high feeling Arthur got whenever he was with his companions. He loved the way it made him feel lighter. Unearthly. As if he belonged.

"Ah! Is that you Arthur?" Until that feeling came crashing down.

He flinched. The Brit could recognize that smug voice anywhere. Arthur's shoulder slumped dejectedly as he adjusted his glasses. Slowly, he turned.

"What do you want Vainamoinen?"

The blonde smiled confidently, hands in his white short-sleeve hoodie. A hat similar to Finn's from the cartoon _Adventure Time_ protected his ears from the cool air. He wore white leggings under his black shorts, making him seem younger, girly or fitting the stereotype of a male homosexual amazingly well.

As much as Arthur hated admitting it, the short and leggings combo did look good on the teen.

"I just wanna talk to you," He said cheerfully. "Perhaps over dinner?"

"No." Romano answered before Arthur could. Tino's smile faltered for a second, turning into an inquisitive frown.

"Why not?"

"I'm not willing to let him take that kind of risk. He's my SB. I don't want you or your jackass friends fucking around with him anymore. Screw off Vainamoinen. If you wanna fight, wait until I feel like beating the shit out of you. I'm too hungry now."

The blonde's eyebrow furrowed. Tino waved his hands in front of himself defensively as Romano took a step forward.

"_Mitä?_ I…don't understand. Who is fighting? I just wanted to talk to Arthur! I haven't seen him in a while so I thought-!"

"Is it not strange for you to be asking Arthur out to dinner when you are dating Mr. Jones-? I mean, Alfred?"

Romano patted Lina's shoulder out of approval, making the girl blush. The Finnish youth shook his head furiously.

"T-That is not the case! Don't you guys invite each other over to eat all the time? I mean, you invited Arthur to sleep in your house while you were dating Matthew Gilbert!"

The albino's eyes narrowed.

"How did you know that? Only our group knows about that. Hell, even our parents don't know that."

The Finnish teen paled, biting his lower lip. Elizaveta sighed.

"Look guys, quit picking on him. It'll reduce you to Monarchy level. And I know you are all better than that." She glared when Gil opened his mouth. "If he wants to talk to Arthur over dinner, I say we let him. But it has to be in a public place. That way if there is some fight planned, there will be witnesses to tell the cops exactly what happened."

"And people to call an ambulance when I screw up your face." Romano snarled at Tino. The teen seemed unconcerned by the threat, but instead confused.

"Why in the world are you all talking about fighting?"

"As if you don't know!"

Arthur wisely chose to remain quiet during the conversation. If there was anything he learned to do well, it was how to listen, read the atmosphere and study body reactions. (Which balanced Alfred's obliviousness out)

Either Tino was an amazing actor, or he was sincerely bewildered about what they were spouting. The way his eyebrows furrowed, the lost look in his violet eyes, the way he was wringing his palms. All of the symptoms of a puzzled simpleton.

"I'll go. Not for a full dinner though. I'm stone-broke." He said, surprising even himself.

Tino gave him a smile. "Great. Wanna grab some frozen yogurt instead then?"

"I'm fine with that. My friends do have to come along though. Just in case."

"But then how do I know you guys won't beat me up?"

"Why you little-!" Elizaveta dragged Romano back by the collar, shaking her head.

"Romano, take Lina home for me please. Only you know the shortcuts around this city. Get there before Vash does."

Amber eyes met with green. Arthur nodded, imploring the freshman to go.

"Gil, go with Arthur. I need to talk with Zane for a few minutes."

The girl shot the albino a warning glance as she turned away, hands stuffed in her pockets. Gil didn't react. His face was emotionless as he stared straight ahead, keeping himself at Arthur's side. Tino remained smiling, singing a song in Swedish to himself.

Arthur looked between the two and inwardly groaned. It was going to be a long night.

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

The frozen yogurt shop was for the most part completely empty. Only a few stragglers remained, some typing furiously on their laptops and others enjoying the quiet, alone with their thoughts. There was a happy couple in the back, eating out of the same bowl and giggling. Or at least the guy was. The female had a bright blush on her face, wearing a deep scowl. She said something that made the man cover his mouth to block his amusement from becoming vocal.

When he suddenly swooped in to catch her lips was when Arthur turned away. Stupid young couples and their PDA.

"What did you intend to discuss? Uh, can I have New York Cheesecake flavored? Two scoops."

"German Chocolate Cake for the Awesome Me. Kesesese!"

"I just wanted to check how you were doing. Five scoops of Candy Cane please."

Gil nudged Arthur, drawing him to away to a table.

_"He's not normal! Who eats candy cane flavored frozen yogurt?"_

_"Santa Claus does! Now belt up! You're being rude!"_

_"His friends beat the shit out of you!"_

_"We have to at least be civil to those we don't like."_

"I love frozen yogurt! And ice-cream! And cake! I like sweets in generally!" Tino practically sang, stuffing his spoon in his mouth. Gilbert and Arthur watched in horrified amazement as the teen wolfed the bowl down in under two minutes. Disappointed, violet eyes sadly stared down at the empty bowl.

"Be right back guys. I need to get some more."

_"I can see why he's dating the jock."_

_"Dear Lord, did you just see that? It's like God's hand took up the entire bowl and stuffed it down Tino's black-hole."_

_"_I've never tried Red Velvet flavored before. Have you guys?"

"I must say that I enjoy the cupcake, but I have never tried it in yogurt form."

Cautiously, Tino took a spoonful, then grinned.

"I like it!"

"When did Alfred ask you out?" Arthur blurted, before Tino could really start eating.

"After the Homecoming Game. You know, the one where he-."

"Made 5 touchdowns and broke record. Yes, I know."

If Tino were put off by his tone, he didn't show it. "It was so romantic. He even took me out for dinner. Suprisingly, it wasn't McDonald's but-."

"_Shocks_, his favorite restaurant. He goes there because he likes the fancy glasses and the fact that they make Sprite look like White Wine. He also likes the steak, but believes that the portions are too small but his portions aren't that of a normal person so many would beg to differ."

Tino nodded, still grinning. "You know him well."

"I am his best friend."

"What of Gilbert over there?"

"He's my older brother. There's a difference."

If Arthur craned his neck just a little bit, he would see Gilbert's face explode in a fiery blush and a wide grin spread across his face. The mouth twitched as he held in remarks. He settled for squeezing Arthur's hand in gratitude.

"What about Francis?"

"He's my Uncle. The one you go to when you've got problems at home."

Gilbert squeezed his hand again.

"Romano Vargas? You two seem pretty close."

"He is The Godfather and my twin. The one I'll endlessly tease as long as he'll tease me back.

"Elizaveta? Matthew? Roderich? Even with all of them, you still consider Alfred your best friend?"

"Elizaveta is my caring mother. Roderich is my stern father that knows what's best for me. Matthew is my younger brother. The one that you can't help but feel protective over, even if you know he can take care of himself."

Arthur's hand was threatening to loose circulation, but he smiled anyway. Yeah, he definitely belong with the Sophomore Slumps.

"If you had to chose," Tino glanced up from his food. "Between them and Alfred. Who would you choose?"

Arthur paused. He loved his 'family'. There was no doubt in his mind about that. But with Alfred, there came so much confusion and heartbreak and he honestly did not enjoy dealing with that. But Alfred was Alfred. He could never hate the guy. He still cared. The athlete had been his best friend for most of his life.

"I..." he trailed off. Who would he choose? Better yet, why would he choose them?

"As Al would say, _'Bros before hoes_. I would make Alfred part of 'them' and then choose 'them'."

"Aren't you clever?" Tino's smile seemed to be a bit forced now.

"Thank you. Now, if you don't mind, I would like for you to answer some of my questions."

The Finnish teen fiddled with his frozen yogurt. "Ask away." He said shortly.

"Who sent a bunch of brainless Neanderthals to come after me?"

"I don't under-."

Arthur took off the sunglasses, flashing his black eye briefly. Tino gasped, reaching out to touch the wound as Arthur put the glasses back

"Don't touch it. It still hurts. I got it only yesterday. You'll have to take my word for it when I say that it isn't some makeup effect."

"Who did that to you?"

"Athletes. The only one I remember was this beady eyed, black haired Junior with rancid breath."

"Viktor Magnolia." The boy breathed. He was shocked. Not even an accomplished actor could make it look that realistic.

"I've...I've got to go." He picked up his jacket and sped out of the confectionery shop. Gilbert and Arthur shared bewildered looks and finished their yogurt in silence before they too decided to part ways.

As Arthur walked down the streets toward his house, he couldn't help but notice that Tino's shock suprised even him. If Al knew about the attack, he would have told Tino right? If Tino didn't know, then either Al held information from his boyfriend or even he didn't know about the bathroom fiasco.

How peculiar.

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

1OO FRICKEN REVIEWS! I honestly thought I was going to be professional about this and ignore this fact but I have to express how grateful I am to all of you dear reviewers and followers. Seriously, this story wouldn't be the way it is if it weren't for you. You guys rock and I really want to make this story the best it can be.

_Which is why I'm going to take a while to edit these past chapters instead of writing a new one._

Don't get all mad yet! I am going to post next Friday! Only the chapter won't be centered on Arthur. It'll have Elizaveta as it's main character. You guys have to see what's going on behind the scenes with her if you want the full SSCOTY experience. *Insert dramatic gestures here* Of course, you also have the option of ignoring this chapter and passing it off as filler.

It won't be too long. About 3k at the very most. But too make up for it, I'll post the real next chapter as soon as it's ready instead of waiting until the 24th.

Once again, thanks to all of you lovely, amazing people. Especially those who critique, or make it their duty to post a review every chapter. This story isn't just for me anymore. It's for all of you.

_Preview for Elizaveta's Shipped Gold Standard: She couldn't believe she was doing it. Helping some guy win Arthur's heart? What would the Brit say? Oh Lord, everything had better work out well. Her Dad's credit card had spent alot of money on that piercing._

_Preview for Next Chapter:__ Arthur goes with his mother to visit his father's grave. Surprisingly, he finds a friend in the very same __cemetery. He listens to this friend's story and finds out what the Sophomore Slumps are really all about. Enlightened, he feels grateful to have a friend to tell him such a heartbreaking story. But when they find out that they had an eavesdropper, they are worried about what'll happen when they return to school. Could an impromptu visit from Gilbert and his Uncle Father Fritz save the day?_


	11. Elizaveta's Shipped Gold Standard

She couldn't do it. It went against her morals. If looked at in a certain way, it went against her vows. Not to mention how much Arthur would hate her if he found out. She couldn't believe she was doing this.

"I can't believe I'm doing this." She slumped forward, hands burrowing into her pockets.

"Hey, a promise is a promise. Breaking your word is totally unawesome."

She didn't reply.

Blue eyes narrowed as they looked her over. Sighing, her companion ran a hand through his jet black locks.

"Look, if Arthur rejects me, then we're done. Okay? It's all pretty simple."

"The contacts look good on you. I'm glad we got them." The girl said, ignoring the prior statement. The teen grinned.

"I know right? Blue looks good on me. Pretty fucking awesome. The clothes are epic too."

She was almost proud of herself. Her choice in ripped black jeans and Adidas High Tops was impeccable. With a white V-neck and leather jacket, the look was edgy with a sense of attractive self-confidence. The snakebites under his lips looked fresh, but within a week, they would seem natural. His black hair was a good kind of disheveled, courtesy of Leah. His eyes, however, were a cerulean masterpiece.

"I think it looks good. But we need to consult the master first."

She moved to take the boy's hand, but stopped. He wasn't Arthur. He wasn't her friend. He was only a business partner.

_A business partner that was trying to get with her best friend._

She didn't notice that they entered Kardnal's Pizza Parlor until a familiar face nudged her shoulder with a soda.

"Sup Thornberry?"

"The fucking sky."

"Ooh, caught you in a bad mood didn't I? I'll come back in a week. You know, when you're not PMSing."

Zane looked up into the eyes of the teen that was desperately trying to seem disinterested in their conversation.

What he saw was a lanky youth with spray dyed black hair, contact blue eyes, a dark outfit, and pretty badass snakebites. But he seemed so unused to the getup; he kept his gaze towards the ground and if he pulled the jacket up any higher he would be shielding his eyes.

"Who the emo kid?"

"Stereotyping is rude." Elizaveta said sharply. Zane shrugged, sipping his drink.

"His name is-."

"You can call me Flighter. Flighter Ross." The teen gave her a look, as if to say _'I can introduce myself.'_

"Zane Kardnal." The two shook hands briefly. "Why did come here Eliza? Did you miss me in the hour that you were away?"

"Hell to the no. Just want an opinion on Flighter."

Zane took another swig from his soda, not sparing the teen a single glance.

"He's lacking in confidence, proper posture and effortless class. He looks uncomfortable in those clothes and that piercing is fresh. He's another one of your projects isn't he?"

"Yeah. If everything works out well, he won't have to wear the piercing for long."

"He may not end up as good as Arthur did. Punk is Arthur's actual person. No offense, but this guy-."

"I've got it covered. We just get our job done, then he's back in his checkered wristbands."

Elizaveta studied her friend's reaction. There was the furrow in his eyebrow, which meant he was skeptical of the entire thing. The way his lips tightened around his straw portrayed his slight annoyance at the situation. An she could see the inquisitiveness burning in the teen's eyes. A question was coming soon.

"What is this job exactly?"

She frowned, looking away. He _knew_ what the job was.

"A hookup." She muttered.

"Elizaveta!"

"Dude, it'll be fine!"

"W-Why-? He's not Arthur! He's _not_ whatever you're trying to dress him up as. Arthur tried to hide his actual personality! Even I could tell! You were bringing his real personality out by coaxing it with new clothes and the thought of tattoos, but _this-" _He gestured towards the teen. "Who's he trying to hook up with?"

"It's kind of ironic actually. He wants to go out with Arthur."

Zane choked as Elizaveta awkwardly giggled.

"Heheh. I, uh-."

"No."

"What?"

"No. Arthur can get really hurt. I'm pretty positive he'd prefer someone that's legit instead of a poser."

Her eyes narrowed. "Since when do you care so much about Arthur Zane?"

She felt Flighter tense beside her. She resisted the urge to comfort him. God, the Sophomore Slumps were too intimate with each other. Touching someone to comfort them just became a really bad habit. She would have to get over it.

Zane groaned so she could tell exactly how much he was against this.

"He's a cool dude Eliza. Not to mention this'll find a way to get pinned to you. I don't think he wants to hook up with anyone now, _if_ all you've told me is true."

"Well, if I ask him out, and he says no, then he won't date me. Simple as that." Flighter said, finally deciding to participate in the conversation. Elizaveta deduced that he really didn't like Zane. Apparently, the University student also picked up on this. Blue eyes suddenly went cold as he regarded Flighter, sizing him up.

"If he ends up more hurt than he already is, I'm going to target your ass. Got it pretty boy?"

"Tch."

Flighter turned on his heel and stormed out. Elizaveta gave Zane a withering glare before following close behind.

"Hey, don't mind him. He gets really possessive of his friends sometimes."

"Does he really regard Arthur as a friend?"

"Yes." The girl was sure of it. "But that's all they are. If Zane liked Arthur, he would be visiting our school with roses and chocolates every day."

"So the punk is a romantic."

"Yeah."

Flighter scoffed. "Wow."

"He's human. He just has some intimidating clothes and an open-minded, unconstrained attitude. There's no reason for him not to be a romantic."

The girl sniffled as she checked her phone.

"It's getting late. I've gotta head home. You should too."

"Sure, but..."

The girl turned, expecting an expression of thanks. What she found, however, was a blushing Flighter with eyes downcast.

"When can I meet Arthur?"

"When I say so." She was out of that mall three minutes before closing time.

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

"Apu! Testvér! Itthon vagyok!"

No response. Elizaveta sighed, leaving her shoes by the door. Her father's brown loafers were there, as well as her brother's Nikes. So they were home. They just weren't answering. She took the stairs two at a time, not bothering to knock when she barged into her brother's room.

"Get up you lazy bum!" She commanded, tossing a soda can his way.

Andris Hedervary caught the Pepsi without glancing away from his computer. This didn't surprise her. Such skills came from his job as a guard. Her own wheat hair covered the back of his neck in a short ponytail. She broke off a piece of her Subway sandwich and aimed it at his broad shoulders. As soon as she released the object, however, he turned, catching the sandwich with his teeth. His pearly fucking teeth.

"Damn you." She said when his pale green eyes winked. She craned her head to see what he was researching when he shut off his computer.

"Uh-uh. Sorry lányos. Can't have you seeing this."

She pouted. "Why? What is it? You can tell me?"

Her brother didn't answer, choosing to dress instead. He pulled on a slim pair of black pants over his boxers, then pulled on combat boots over that.

"What are you guarding today?" She inquired as he placed his pistol in its holster. He pulled on his black shirt to hide it.

"Apparently, my services are needed in the museum. They're getting some expensive jewel tonight and they need people that know what they're doing to accompany it there."

"So they need you classic warrior skills."

"They need me to go H.A.M on them thieving biatches."

"Aww snap! Bastards gonna hit the floor when they hear your gun crack!"

The two siblings shared a look, trying to hide their laughter behind their twin smirks.

"Have fun bro. Don't die or else."

"I won't. I still have to go through with my wedding remember?"

The girl smirk fell.

"Oh. You're marrying Gilliana this Summer. Gilbert will be my brother-in-law. Joy."

Andris gave her a look.

"You could at least pretend to be happy for me."

"You still haven't answered my first question.

"Oh, that. I was looking for places to hold our honeymoon. I mean, I was totally gonna go for Vienna, but then I thought about you and Roderich. I don't want to have my honeymoon in the same city that my younger sister loses her virgi-."

"Andris!"

"So then I considered Florence, Italy, but Romano came from Italy and I ain't having no emo-ass child so-."

"That's provocative!"

"I prefer 'Gets people going'. So then I narrowed my choices down to Tanzania, Galapagos Islands, Paris, Australia and Egypt."

"Ooh, go to Paris or Egypt!"

"That narrows it down to Tanzania, Galapagos Islands and Australia. Thanks sis."

Elizaveta punched him as he laughed.

"Have you eaten?" She inquired worriedly. Andris looked over his appearance in the mirror. All black. Just what he needed. He then took the second half of her sandwich. "Now I have." The adult said as he stole out the door. Elizaveta followed.

"Have a nice night at work!" She shouted from the top of the stairs. He gave a backwards wave. When the front door closed behind him, she sped to her father's study.

"Good evening Pops!" She greeted brightly. But she could see from his face that the old man wasn't in such a great mood. Hazel eyes looked her over, clouded.

"Sit." He commanded coldly. He ran a hand over his tanned face as she moved in front of his desk. In the desk light, the few gray hairs in her father's umber hair were brought out. She bit her lip as her father's mouth set itself into a firm line.

"I received a call from your school today. Apparently, there was a fight in the boy's bathroom."

"Why did they call us if I'm a-?"

"You know exactly why."

She winced. He sighed.

"I'm going to ask this only once Eliza, were any of your friends involved in this?"

Eliza looked her father right in the eye, face devoid of emotion as she said smoothly, "No. They were not involved in this."

_My friends were not involved, but my best friends were at the center of it._

_-S.S.C.O.T.Y-_

You know what I hate? Getting grounded for shit I didn't do. It just throws my entire schedule off. Not to mention the fact that it totally put me off writing this. *frustration* I'm sorry for the long wait guys! The next authentic chapter will be posted either tomorrow, then I'll take an real break to regroup till September. For now, feel free to ask questions, criticize, etc.

(As a side-note, hell yes new characters! I'm excited to finally get to work with Flighter! I've been planning him out for such a long time! As well as Andris, who is Male! Hungary if you didn't already guess. Her father's Squall Leonhart. Crossover FTW!)


	12. She Said She's No Good With Words But

Chapter 10: She Says She's No Good With Words But I'm Worse

Roses? Check. Red Roses? Check. Phone and keys? Check. Concealer properly applied?

Arthur scrutinized himself in the mirror. It looked okay. The bruise had already started to heal. It didn't hurt when he prodded it with the concealer stick.

It kind of looked natural. He put moisturizer over the area before applying the makeup, like Francis instructed him. He could walk around the house like that right? His family wouldn't suspect that he was wearing makeup.

Arthur brushed the issue off and adjusted his outfit. Black blazer, black button down, black skinny tie and a shiny, new pair of dress shoes. Oddly enough, he felt almost uncomfortable in the clothes now.

He frowned as he loosened the tie a bit. Wouldn't it look better with a no-sleeve shirt? Then his blazer wouldn't look bad with his white button down. Both the outfits could be partnered with his black jeans as well. But would it look too-?

Great. Now he was thinking like Elizaveta. Thankfully, three knocks at his door distracted him from his thoughts.

"Are you ready darling?"

Holly Kirkland looked stunning in her black trench coat and knee-high boots. Her crimson, wispy curls were tamed under a gray crocheted beanie. It was the nude lipstick in her hand that warned him however.

Slyly, he tossed the concealer into his desk's chair and hurried her out.

"Yes mum. Do you have your gift?"

The woman held up a shirt with a wry grin as he took up the car keys from the kitchen rack.

"Warriors?" He questioned.

"They were his favorite rugby team!" She exclaimed as they exited their house. Absent-mindedly, Arthur glanced across the street as her mother went on a rant. To his displeasure, Alfred, Matthew and their father were all sitting on the porch, discussing…or were they arguing?

It seemed to be getting pretty heated. Matthew versus Alfred and his father it seemed. Fearing for the Canadian, Arthur plucked up the nerve to shout over.

"Good Morning Matt!"

The three stopped and looked over. Matthew was the only one to rise.

"Hey Artie! Where are you going?"

"Visiting my father! Are you going anywhere?"

He pointedly looked at the blonde's winter boots.

"Yeah!" The Brit noticed the smirk the Canadian sent back at his stoic relatives. "I'm going to stay over at Francis's for Thanksgiving so I might not see you if you end up going to Gilbert's!"

Sneaky bastard. The Brit wasn't stupid. He knew that Matthew wasn't planning on going to the Frenchman's house. That was asking for a night of Bad Touch Trio pranks.

But, hell, Thanksgiving was _tomorrow_?

"Alright! Have an awesome Thanksgiving you lot! Tell Romano I'll catch up with him after I finish!"

"Later SB! Don't do anything I wouldn't do! And beware all bathrooms!"

The blonde darkly laughed as he entered the passenger's door.

"Hey mum, can I drive?"

"No. You don't even have your permit." The engine started.

"I can apply for it in May. I'll be sixteen by then."

"But you don't have it now. So you cannot drive. Gosh, Arthur, what's gotten into you? You know better than to ask such a question."

"My apologies mam."

The car fell silent. Holly squirmed, sending a glance at her son every once in a while. Oddly, he relished in seeing his mother writhe. Her hatred of silence was amusing to say the least. He held back a smirk as she tapped her finger against the wheel. Holly could only take five minutes of it, apparently, because she slammed the radio on.

_'As long as you love me, I'll be your platinum. I'll be your silver.'_

Arthur bit back a laugh as his mother began to swivel her head in time to the music in some odd dance. His amusement grew when she let go of the wheel and began to do the robot. Silly things led to even sillier things, and somehow Arthur caught her childishness.

If you happen to be the man that was sitting in the Toyota next to them, they sincerely apologize for scarring you with the mental image of two Brits trying to act like an American rapper, even more so if you are a Big Sean fan.

"Which one is his?" Arthur asked when they finally arrived. His mother gave him a disappointed look.

"You don't remember your own father's grave site?"

Guilt stirred in him. "I-It's been a long time Mum."

"Which is why you should visit more often. Search for him Arthur." His mother's voice was curt. Sensing this bad sign, the boy quickly exited and began his expedition.

Row after row of grave sites stared at him, as if waiting for him to make a move. He clutched the bouquet in his hand. The site was so _intimate_. He had a father buried amongst their ranks and he still felt as if he were intruding into something sacred. He couldn't drift among the lines, so he decided to shrink back and wait for his mother to guide him to the correct area.

Arthur was moving to sit under an old oak tree when he tripped.

Over his father's gravestone.

_'Robin George Kirkland; Father of 7, Loyal Friend, and Witty Song Weaver.'_

"What does _Song Weaver_ mean?" He inquired as his mother approached. She didn't respond at first, folding the t-shirt and setting it onto the grave.

"He could craft such amazing tunes, for one. He could write songs and play every instrument known to rock, and others."

"Bloody hell," The blonde breathed. He didn't know that. His father didn't have any instrument other than his guitar in the house. With a new respect, green eyes regarded the slate. Holly smiled.

"Secondly, he was the only member to continue playing throughout concerts. He was the one that brought the band into the next song. He only stopped playing when a dramatic finish was necessary or when the concert had finished."

"That's why he had arthritis pains." Arthur muttered. The two were silent as they wistfully stared at their beloved's grave.

What else didn't he know about his father? Were his friends his family as the Sophomore Slumps were to Arthur?

"I need to go get something." His mother said suddenly. Arthur nodded. When the echoing sound of her footsteps faded to backdrop, he took a deep breath.

"Hey Dad," he began awkwardly. How people would ridicule him when they saw him talking to a crooked slab of stone under a tree!

"It's been a pretty intense year so far. Late August, Francis Bonnefoy-Um, that's the boy that used to steal my homework-decided I had a crush on Alfred. Then when school started he got all his friends to turn me into a punk so I could '_catch the love of my life's attention'_."

He paused.

" _I know_, you don't approve. Stereotype punk really wasn't your thing, but I think I'm getting into real _punk_ Dad. I still fucking love most of my dress clothes, and I'll wear them without caring what anyone else thinks. I've been doing that a lot recently. Not caring. I feel _alive_. I've been doing what I want, when I want and how I want. I'll wear a pair of skinny jeans with a suit top on Monday and friggin' love it. I think…that's the way to go. I do like the clothes Elizaveta gave me though. Traditional punk dress is pretty Prussian-awesome, like Gil would say."

For some reason, the lack of legitimate response was comforting.

"Elizaveta's this really close friend of mine. I have a lot of close friends now Dad. You'd be surprised; we're like this huge family. There's Francis,surprisingly, who can really be a jackarse sometimes but can inspire those who need help. Elizaveta's nice, but strong and independent. You'd like her. I just know it. I like her. Not like-like of course. Romano's my best mate. He calls me Skinny Bitch because I'm so slim. Oh, Antonio's…"

And so he talked the hour away, talking about his friends, school, the teachers he loved and the ones he hated. He managed to slip his brothers in as well. ("I mean, I'd do anything to save their arses, but they can literally drive me up the wall. Mum had to threaten me with her Nimbus broomstick for me to get off the bookshelf.)

It was Alfred that he spoke of the most though.

"You wouldn't be homophobic right? I mean, Mum says you were as open-minded as she is, so you wouldn't mind if I were bisexual. What do you think about Alfred? I say he's a nice guy but lately he's doing all sorts of things. I mean, we used to talk about everything, and now he's so secretive. When we get into fights, we make up and then we go right back to fighting. Hell, his athlete army gave me a black eye! I'm just so confused Dad. I don't have experience with romance, except for that one time with Chelles during Eight Grade."

He sighed, rubbing his temple.

"My friends keep telling me that he was the one that sent out the athletes, but I don't think that's right. I think that they're being blinded by their hate. Lina and Elizaveta don't believe it was him, and they used to hang out with his crowd so they're probably right. But, I…I-."

"You what?"

Arthur jumped.

"Elizaveta?"

The girl, too, was in all black. Her stockings and dress were darker than midnight, so her black boots were the lightest article on her persona. Her hair was let lose, bangs clipped to the side by a few hair pins. She sat next to him, taking in the scenery.

"Your father chose a comfortable place to be buried. This tree really sets a calm mood," Her delicate knuckles brushed the wood. "His remains may be fertilizing it though."

"I think he would be fine with that. He loved nature so much that his mates used to call him Robin Hood."

"Hmm."

A sideways glance was sent.

"Why are you here?" Arthur asked lowly.

"Visiting my mom."

"I'm sorry."

"It's no biggie."

"May I go see her?"

Green eyes connected, one pair brutally honest, the other vulnerable and defensive.

"I…Sure."

Arthur gingerly placed the bouquet on top of the t-shirt, plucking two roses from it. Affectionately, he rubbed the top of the headstone and smiled.

_"Later Dad." _

A red head watched from a distance as her son walked off with his friend. She held back the urge to call after him as a rose withdrew itself from the group and began to etch words into the ground.

"Oh dearest," she breathed. The rose stopped in midair. A sad smile on her face, Holly began to step forward.

"He's missed you terribly you know."

A strong gust of wind blew past, wiping whatever was in the ground away. Curiously, the bouquet and t-shirt stayed in place.

"I think…he's starting to find himself, and where he belongs. I can tell that he's much happier. But there's something holding him back dearest. He has some baggage that he can't seem to let go of."

She pursed her lips. As if to comfort her, the levitating rose tickled her neck, making her laugh.

"St-Stop it you! I swear, I'll never bring your sons to you again if you keep tickling me." The rose paused, resting itself in the woman's hair.

"Why thank you Robin." The woman reddened at the gesture, smiling shyly. If someone craned their head in the proper direction, they would see the apparition of a man.

A dashing man with a charming smile enhanced by stubble. A father with jade eyes that pierced you through. A rock musician with warm brown locks concealed under a green cap.

A husband with the softest hands to caress his wife's cheek.

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

"Here she is!" Elizaveta exclaimed, flamboyantly gesturing. The grave site was covered in flora. The only prominent one was a small white flower with interesting petals and a yellow center. Elizaveta took up the crown of white flowers from the headstone and placed it on her own scalp, doing a little dance.

"They're called edelweiss," She answered before Arthur could ask. "They were my mom's favorite flower."

"Why bring all these flowers here, if they're going to die soon? It's winter."

"Why did you bring roses?"

"…They were my father's favorite thing to hand off to my mum."

The girl winked.

"Sit Arthur, and I shall tell you a story."

"Now? Won't your Dad be looking for you?"

The girl patted the empty soil next to her and he complied, ignoring the fact that the area was dustier than Robin's grave site.

"Both he and Andris know where I am. Besides, it's only a three minute walk to my apartment from here?"

"Ixion Apartments?" Arthur guessed.

"Close enough. I live in Al Bhed Apartments."

"Fancy."

"Nothing like Francis's fancy though."

"I suppose not," The boy gave her a sidelong look, then lowered his gaze. "You said you had a story."

He felt her tense. Arthur held her hand, gently coaxing the facts out of her.

"Once upon a time, there was a ten year old girl who had a terrible case of loneliness. She had but one friend her age, and only got to see that friend for an hour each day. He went to a prestigious school, and only came back at five while her curfew was at six. Every hour, she would listen to him play the piano, cello, or violin."

He already knew who the characters were, but remained silent as she tried to find the right words.

"Unfortunately, this hour was her only time of peace. Day and Night the boys from the richer part of town would find every which way to aggravate her. She hated them, and the girls in her school who were vainer than she believed possible, and insulted her for wearing pants."

…What?

"She only had her family and the pianist to trust, but at school she was alone. Left to deal with savage girls and guys. When she went home, her mother was always there to cheer her up with cookies and cheesy romance flicks and fairy tales. She treasured her mother the most, and would do anything for her,

"But then her mother decided to go out into the city during the worst of snow storms. She just left, and never came back. The girl was the one to answer the phone call when the police reported that her mother was found dead in a car accident with some dumbass drunk driver. That's when she spiraled down into God-Knows-Where. She didn't eat unless forced. She didn't speak. She didn't go to visit the sick pianist and she let her guard down and the girls fucking _got to her_."

Arthur knew the change would come. He squeezed her hand and shook it, waking her up from memories. She buried her face in his shoulder, voice quaking.

"She cut Artie. She couldn't stop. No one would pay any attention when she suddenly wore long sleeves. No one would ask her what was wrong. So she slashed her arms into ribbons and pitied herself. But that pity grew into resent, and she began to hate herself. She began to believe that the girls were right. She was ugly. She was fat. She was raccoon-eyed. Her family was no help. Her brother couldn't hang out anymore because he had to get three jobs to support her and her deadbeat father."

She let out a breath, shakily smiling.

"But then _he_ appeared. It was around her 12th birthday that she saw one of the rich boys that used to pick on her again.

_"Oh? Well, well, mon Cherie. You have a lot of explaining to do."_

_"I don't need to tell you anything!"_

_A smug smirk accompanied by an eyebrow quirk._

_"No, you don't need to tell me anything about the scars on your arms. You don't need to tell me about your exploits in The Luxia or the way you avoid food as if it were poison. You don't have to tell me anything. But you want to."_

_The girl reddened, tears welling up. Scowling, she turned and wiped them away with her sleeve. The brunette tried to slip away, but the blonde gently caught her by the shoulder._

_"Would you like to accompany for some glace mon Cherie?"_

_"Some what?"_

_"Ice-cream. You don't have to eat. You can just watch me."_

_"Why should I go?"_

_"I don't know. Why should you go? Perhaps it's because your mother would love for you to be in good health. Perhaps it's because you want to be in good health. Perhaps you just want to see a charming French boy eat ice cream."_

_He gave her another grin, but this was more sincere than the others. _

_"You only have one chance at life Eliza. Use it wisely."_

_A frail palm twitched. A firm hand remained outstretched. The two met in a strong embrace, starting the friendship that would save a life. _

_The girl, of course, did not know this when she watched the blonde eat._

"The rich boy introduced her to others with their own issues, and they all created something. They still don't know what it is to this day, but it helped them in so many ways. The girl didn't cut after the others found out, broke in, and stole all of her sharp utensils.-She kicked most of their asses of course.-And she began to eat, starting with only five crackers and water a day. She began to be more open; she began to have more fun. Most importantly, she didn't let the comments get to her anymore. She could flip the girls off without a second thought. Oddly enough, the boys that used to ridicule her became her best of friends. Within two years, they were as close as siblings and she could eat as much as she wanted. She relapses occasionally though. She won't deny that."

"Did she continue to see piano boy?"

Arthur wiped away her tears, and offered her a tissue. He pulled her close into his embrace, and lay his head atop of hers. The mild scent of vanilla enchanted him, encouraging him to play with her hair.

Elizaveta sniffled, a sound that pained him to hear.

"Yeah. Piano boy was one of the kids with issues actually."

"Oh? What?"

"It's not my story to tell."

"May I ask what the group of kids called themselves?"

"I think you already know Artie."

Their eyes connected briefly as a stronger bond was built between the two. Elizaveta had trusted him with the knowledge of one of the worst times of her life. Sacred information he knew he wouldn't speak of unless necessary.

"Why?" She knew what he was asking without any further explanation.

"I don't know. If anyone does, it's you and Francis. No one else knows your issue; we can only guess."

"Then Lina…"

"Lina will not be a Sophomore Slump." Elizaveta confirmed. "Her only problem is her confidence. She can be friends with us, but Francis has already confirmed that she's not."

"Isn't that kind of stuck up? I mean, excluding people from a group just because-."

"When you're a Sophomore Slump you have mock-therapy sessions with Francis. Normal people would find them useless."

"I don't want to go to therapy!" Arthur exclaimed.

"They're not mandatory. But for me, I use him to vent about my problems so I don't resort to…crude methods."

"Why don't you get professional help?"

The girl grimaced, tensing once more.

"My father doesn't know. My brother knows, but he won't say anything until I'm comfortable enough to actually tell him about it. Not to mention the fact that I'll have to drive to the therapist."

"So, basically, you're family isn't in a position where they can confront you and take you to therapy."

The girl shrugged as Arthur tittered.

"You should talk to them."  
>"I'm fine with Francis. I only relapsed twice since using him as my 'therapist'. Plus, that was only towards the beginning. I'm fine now. It would be useless."<p>

"If you say so."

The two were quiet, listening to the wind blow past them. Arthur put on his gloves, rubbing his hands together as the cold finally got to him.

"Everyone has issues?"

"Yes."

"What are they?"

"Your job is to make them trust you enough to tell you. You already know Matthew's, Gilbert's, and half of Romano's."

"I do?"

The girl winked and rose. "Later Artie. Have a nice Thanksgiving."

They were all smiles, and then the twig cracked.T The two jumped into attention, glaring over the area.

"Who's there?" Elizaveta shouted, eyes narrowed.

Arthur too rose, running toward the source of the sound. He reached the area just in time to see a blonde teenager speeding out of the entrance.

"Damn it." He muttered.

"Who was it?"

Arthur couldn't meet Elizaveta's eyes.

"Did you see the way he was walking?"

"No. Why?"

"He had a limp. Gil was fighting a blonde that day in the bathroom. He kicked the kid at Francis. When he kicked him, it probably left a huge bruise. If I didn't know any better I would've called his leg broken."

Her eyes widened as her breath caught.

"So…that guy was…"

"One of the jocks." Arthurconcluded.

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

_"Everyone's going to know my entire life story by Monday Gil! I only have four days till I have to face hell!"_

'They don't matter. You've got the awesome me to protect you."

"Yeah, but-but,"

The girl let out a strangled sob and buried her face in the albino's chest. Arthur's guilt ate him alive as he attempted to sink lower into his corner.

Gilbert murmured words of comfort to her as she sobbed.

"We'll fix it. Don't worry. I'm sure Francis will think of something before the gossip spreads."

"What if he recorded it? There's no way to fix that! They'll have something to hold over my head!"

"This isn't the Elizaveta I know! What happened to the tomboy that didn't care for others opinions?"

The girl glared at the albino from under her bangs, entire facial features distraught. She wiped her teary eyes and sniffed.

"I **_don't_** give a **_flying fuck_** about **_any_** of them. But if one of them tells their parents, and their parents tell my Dad, I'm stuck in therapy for my entire life. I won't be comfortable with some guy telling me I have problems and making me choke down medication that I **_don't need._** Give me Francis. Not someone trying to turn me into a drug dependent."

"Don't say that-."

"You _know _why Francis started all of this." Her voice rose as she was filled with a fiery passion. The wolfish fierceness Arthur noted the first day he met her was present, and ready to rip the entire world apart limb from limb.

"_He didn't want us to take pills! He didn't want us to end up in hospitals because we tried to do some crazy shit! He didn't want us to end up like him! He didn't….He-He didn't…"_

She died down and started crying again. Each sob ripped a new gash in Arthur's chest. He didn't like this at all. The sound of her crying had too much of an effect on him.

"What in the world is going on down here?"

The door of the basement burst open, revealing a man that was probably in his late twenties.

His brown hair was tied back into a long ponytail. His face was cleanly shaved, and had angular features that were pulled into a worried look. His blue eyes were distressed as the man scoped the scene, just as Arthur looked him over.

He was the brunette version of Kurt Cobain with his distressed blue jeans, simple t-shirt, and rugged, old jacket. He walked about with his slippers, every step emanating power as he strode forward. He snuffed the cigarette he held on the wall and tossed it out the window.

At first, Arthur assumed this was Gilbert's father. But judging by the way Elizaveta jumped up and ran into the man's embrace, he knew this was not the case.

"Arthur, this is my Uncle-Father Fritz. Uncle-Father, this is Arthur."

"Hello." The blonde gave him a small wave.

He could definitely see why Gilbert liked his uncle so much.

The man shot a smirk Arthur's way. "Pleased to finally meet your acquaintance _Junge._ My nephew-son never stops talking about how much he wants me to meet you."

"Aww, quit it old man."

The man grinned at the albino, then turned to look at Elizaveta.

"Would someone kindly explain as to why this sweet, little girl is crying? Mein Eliza, has Roderich hurt you?"

"N-No."

"Has he perished already?"

"No!"

"I think you're making it worse old man," Gilbert intervened. "Here, let me explain."

Arthur listened as Gilbert retold the story, putting in his input when it was needed. The old man was a great listener, nodding along to each critical sentence and saving his questions till the end.

"So there's a blonde boy with a limp that knows about Elizaveta's backstory, and will probably spread it through the entire school and as a result, this little girl's parents shall find out."

"Exactly."

"Well, there's only one thing to do at a time like this."

The teenagers looked at the adult expectantly, hope shining in their eyes. With a smile, he pried the girl off of himself and patted her on the head.

"Leave this to me and stay here. I'll be back before you know it."

He gave them one last wave, then flicked Gilbert's nose.

"Don't get into anymore trouble twerp. If I find out that you managed to get into a brawl again this week, I'll box your ears for you."

"Yes Master Fritz sir!"

The albino snickered as his relative shook his head pitifully. The man took his time going up the stairs. It was two minutes before his footsteps faded.

"Gil, you're Uncle's a badarse."

"I know. Pretty damn proud of him. The weird thing is, he plays the flute in an orchestra for a living."

"That's interesting."

Gilbert laughed at his friend's expression. Arthur too grinned for a bit before the albino turned his attention to the girl sprawled on the floor.

"You want anything Princess?"

"No. My life is going to end soon anyway. Anything I eat now would be a waste."

"Chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk then."

Silence. A quiet that threatened to make him go mad.

"This isn't like you." The Brit blurted suddenly. Her sniffling paused.

"What do you mean?"

He wildly gestured, trying to find the words.

"The-the crying! The whining! The worry! The Elizaveta I know doesn't care about what others think! Much less her family! So what if your father finds out? You don't have to take therapy if you don't want to! Hell, at least you_ have_ a father to fret over you!"

His chest rose and fell steadily as his vigor died down into a bitter spite.

"I don't have that luxury," He spat. "Mum has six other kids to care for. Even when Dad was alive, his focus was on Draco and Mac. The athletes of the family. The only one that has ever acted as a father figure to me all the time was Francis. Bloody Francis. How pitiful is that?"

"Oh, so I have it better?" Elizaveta snorted indignantly. "My mom left me when I was 9. My dad left me the same day. I got him back, yeah, but that was after three years. I had to rely on Gilbert, Francis and Antonio, the same kids that bullied me. I had my bullies for a family because my Dad couldn't do anything and my brother was always gone. You think _your_ life sucks? Take a look at the rest of us! Hell, Gil has it worse than both of us and he's still screwing around with a smile!"

She quieted once she realized she was yelling. Arthur, almost infuriated, took in a deep breath, and then cracked a grin.

"I guess both our parental lives are pretty bloody awful."

She paused, looking down.

"Yeah." Her voice was meek. Still not like her usual. How could he erase that scowl?

_"Well, I'd hate to break this emo fest, but I bring gifts so shut the hell up about your problems and engage yourselves in awesomeness! Kesesesese!"_

Gilbert sauntered down the stairs in his boxers and a hoodie, silver tray in hand.

"Here SB. Take this!" The albino threw a sleek black contraption at the blonde and grandly placed the tray of confections in front of Elizaveta.

"To the right you have an assortment of cookies. In the middle, you will find a slice of apple pie surrounded by bowls of four different ice creams. Finally, to your left, there are various flavors of Turkish Delights and the fancy-ass chocolate Franny brought back from France."

"Oh god, Gil, you don't screw around."

"When it comes to severe depressions, I let myself eat cake. I'm telling you guys, Marie-Antoinette knew her shit."

Proudly, the boy snatched up a truffle and popped it in his mouth, savoring the taste as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

_Party Rock is in the house tonight! Everybody just-!_

"Gil, what is this?" Elizaveta's scowl was replaced by a grimace.

"Generic pop music." The boy replied cheerily, sitting cross legged next to Arthur. "It'll make you feel better. Just listen. Oh, we're going to play a game called _Crisis Core_, Artie. I think you'll like it…"

That's how they spent their afternoon. Oddly enough, the music did brighten up the girl's mood. She found herself humming along to it as she slowly inched next to the boys to watch them play. Between the three of them, the tray of sweets was quickly finished. The chocolate managed to bring her sweet smile back. In turn, seeing that grin made Arthur beam out of relief.

When Uncle Fritz came in, however, the mood turned into excitement.

All eyes were glued onto the CDs in the man's hands.

"Are those…?"

"Mein Gott, that kid wouldn't stop screaming." The collapsed in a chair, rubbing his knuckles. "So I found him in this local shop, getting copies made. I waited outside until he was done, which is why it took so long."

The game was abandoned as the teens crowded around Frederick, eyes eager for a story. He told the tale with the commanding aura of a war general, and the magic of a true story crafter.

"I dragged him out back, into the alley," he began lowly. "The kid was ready to piss on his knickers. His eyes were open as wide as saucers and his pupils kept darting around. He was nothing more than a mouse trapped in a corner. When I asked for the disks though, he objected fiercely. So I had to rough him up a bit."

"Give him the old gentleman slap, and if he doesn't submit, fight him like a hoodlum."

Fritz grinned. "That's my nephew. It never came down to fighting like a hoodlum. I only had to brush his face with my fingertips before her dropped all the CDs and the original disk. He was already up and running before I could make him vow to remain silent about the whole thing. Sorry Eliza."

"I'll be fine." The girl said strongly. "There's no proof. You made sure of that. Thank you Uncle Fritz."

The man grinned, before rising.

"I met your mother on the way Arthur. She was going crazy looking for you. She kept showing you picture to strangers and asking whether they've seen her _lad Arthur_. I suggest you get something on that black eye and call her up before she shows your baby picture to the wrong guy."

Gilbert started to laugh as the Brit hung his head in shame.

"Thank you. I guess I'd better go then. See you lot on Monday, if not tomorrow. Have a nice Thanksgiving."

He gave Elizaveta a tight hug.

_'Don't do anything I wouldn't do. The power of Christ compels you to put the cutting utensil down.'_

"Whoa, someone get me a quote book or something. Arthur Kirkland just cracked a funny joke."

"Sweet Jesus! Miracles happen! We sacrificed the gentleman and now we've got a witty punk! Someone please sing the praise!"

"Ignore him." Uncle Fritz, ushered Arthur out as Gilbert began to belt the Godspell soundtrack .

"Thanks for everything."

Blue eyes quizzically looked the blonde over.

"Why are you thanking me? I didn't do anything for you yet."

"You fixed my mistake. That's enough for me. I…Have a nice Thanksgiving Father Fritz. It was pleasant meeting you."

He rushed out, suddenly overwhelmed.

_Well, Monday is sure to be a riot isn't it?_

/

HIATUS! I've always hated this word and now I have to use it. Yes, I'm taking a break for September. I have too many Honors classes to adjust to so I really won't have time to be working on this as much as I did before. When I come back, updates will probably once every two weeks depending on what's going on.

Thank you so much for the reviews, comments, alerts and faves. You guys are the best, and I wish you all luck this school year. (Especially the seniors)

Out of curiosity, is anyone else taking Honors or AP classes?


	13. 11: Weighed Down With Words

_**Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year**_

_**Chapter 11: Weighed Down With Words…Too Over-Dramatic**_

"I can feel their words stabbing me in the back. Does anyone else feel this or is it just me? Seriously, it's getting annoying."

Elizaveta bitterly stabbed her salad, attempting to subject her lettuce to a violent death. Her limp hair hung long under one of Gilbert's baseball caps, shielding her face from onlookers.

Arthur would have pitied her, but he knew she didn't want any of it, and was way stronger than any average 16 year old.

"It'll be fine love. Just focus on something else."

"Like Mathieu's concoction over there." Francis pointed at the Canadian with distaste. "My dear cousin, if I may ask, what the _hell_ is that?"

He grimaced when Matthew held up a dark, thick liquid, swirled it for a minute, and then began to pour it into a steel bottle.

"It's going to be Al's water for basketball practice." He said sweetly, twisting the cap back on.

"Tch. Bastard deserves it after sending street rats after SB. Look, now he's facing depression."

"Romano, I am in no way depressed. How many times do I have to tell you?"

The Italian grasped his best friend's hand, exaggerating every word.

"But, mi amore, you weren't answering my calls, texts or emails all Thanksgiving. And you were at Roderich's place! Two blocks away from me! You could've stopped by! It was hell in my house!"

"I only went to Roderich's to check on Eliza…Let me go! Who gave you permission to touch me?"

"Lina or Antonio, please tell me what's going on at The Monarchy table. I've gotta know."

The freshman appeared almost scared by the request but upon seeing her upperclassman's tired expression, her back straightened with new resolve. Slowly, she craned her head to spy.

"Uh, I see…the girls are laughing and pointing."

"But that doesn't matter because they bitch about you every day. Kesesese."

Wordlessly, Roderich stuffed a granola bar in into Gilbert's mouth. Francis, with a scowl, simply glared at nothing in particular.

"I knew that bastard would tell them all about what he recorded. What is Feliks doing?"

"I can't really see him. Sadiq is listening to Natalia and kind of nodding along to what she says."

"And he has that damn mask on. Bastard scared the shit out of me with that thing when I was in 4th grade."

"Um, Tino's talking to Big Brother Vash."

"What is Alfred doing?"

Arthur tried to sound nonchalant about it. He flicked his eyes towards his phone, to make it seem as if he didn't really care. But Francis knew better. The Brit ignored his snickers as Lina replied,

"He's eating a burger next to Belarus and Tino. He doesn't look that interested…Oh! I found Feliks! He's yelling at the girls. Oh my, he's going red. Quite angry. I think he's defending you. He's…he's running away. I can't tell whether he's crying or not."

"My poor baby," Elizaveta murmured. "I knew he would be there for me. Thank you Lina. I'll call him and see where he is. Someone get me lemon seltzer and 10 soft cookies. He'll need them."

"Si mamasita!"

Antonio ran off, always willing to help out his friends when they were in a bad mood.

"Don't be rude Gil," she warned. "You too Romano."

"We'll be saints. We swear on our mother's graves."

The brunette rolled her eyes and switched on her speakerphone.

"Feliks!"

"_They're, like, punk ass bitches Liz! I don't even want to know them!"_

"I know babe. Where are you? I'll come running with cookies and seltzer."

Arthur heard the blonde sniffle loudly as well as the sound of running water.

"_In the boy's bathroom, but I'm going to the library."_

"We can read Harry Potter to each other in snobby British accents! No offense Arthur."

"None taken."

"_Wait, am I on speaker?"_

Elizaveta laid the phone flat on the table as Antonio began to come back. Francis answered the question instead, seeing her beginning to arrange her things.

"Oui, mon ami. We can all hear you."

"_L-o-l…Hi Sophomore Slumps!"_

"Hi Feliks." The table chorused. Eliza giggled.

"See? You're sounding better already."

"I still have to, like, talk to you though. Hurry up and come to the library. Bring caterpillar brows with you."

Romano elbowed Arthur as Gilbert howled with laughter.

"They aren't that gargantuan." He complained as a shade of red brushed his cheeks. Elizaveta merely smiled, blowing Feliks a kiss before she hung up.

"Arthur, you have to come no matter what. Does anyone else want to go?"

"Non. I need to type up an essay in the computer lab."

"We're gonna go shoots some hoops." Gilbert explained, gesturing to himself, Romano, and Antonio.

"I'm playing on Gil's team." Matthew called. He swatted his boyfriend away as the albino tried to steal a kiss.

"I have to arrange sheet music."

"I have a class, but I can walk with you two."

"Then you can escort her for me." Arthur captured Eliza's questioning stare, holding it to try and coerce her into trusting him. "I'll be there in 5 minutes love. I just need to check something."

Or cause a little mayhem. He couldn't leave without a bang now could he?

Green eyes were calculative as he watched the brunette walk away, talking amiably with Lina and Francis. That was good. She seemed distracted. Then Emily just_ had_ to speak up.

"Done eating already Eliza? Are you _cutting_ down on your weight?"

"That diss wasn't even funny!" Gilbert snarled. Arthur stuck out his hand, bidding the boy to sit back down.

"She can take care of herself. Her battle isn't our war. At least, not yet."

He sympathized as Elizaveta froze, silently encouraged as her hands balled into fists, and felt an overwhelming sense of pride as she turned back to Lina and walked away.

"That's my girl." He lingered for a second, foot tapping out a beat of agitation. Could he really do this? Should he really do-? Oh, Elizaveta was gone.

Time to cause a bit of trouble.

"Where are you going?" Romano asked. He didn't turn, stretching his arms above his head.

"Places."

_Watch out for yourself and whatever you care about_.

He sauntered over to the Monarchy table. With a slam, his palm was on the surface. Using the impact as leverage, he jumped onto the counter, grinning cheekily all the while. At his full height, he leered down at them all, searching.

Dumb bitch #1, Scary-As-Hell-Guy-With-Mask, Dumb Bitch #2, Dumb Bitch #3.

Oh. There's Alfred.

"Hey, what're you-?"

With a snicker, he flipped Natalia off. Then focused on the football player. Slowly, with one hand, he lowered the burger, wiped ketchup of Alfred's mouth, and stuck in a piece of Trident.

Strawberry Twist was his favorite.

He paused for a second, waiting for the boy to chew.

Then Arthur brought his hand behind Alfred's head and pushed the boy forward.

He kissed the kid. Just to cause a bigger scandal.

The entire group went silent and he felt triumphant. Why not give them a show?

Long, slender fingers wrapped themselves up into Alfred's locks as Arthur leant forward. He snickered as he heard Emily gasp, accidently sending his tongue over Alfred's lower lip.

The football player gasped and Arthur swept in, probing the other's mouth.

("Ew. They're using tongue!" "Shut the hell up Bella!")

Just as Alfred grasped at the Brit's lower back, he broke away.

For a millisecond, they simply stared at each other, hot breath mingling. Then the punk rose and jumped off the table, throwing a smirk and saucy wink at the girls before walking to his table.

_Fuck. Yeah._

"Mein fucking Gott."

The four looked awestruck as Arthur collected his messenger bag.

"Mio fucking dio."

"Mon frickin' maple."

"My good man, I ask must ask…what you have done?"

"I've saved your girlfriend from impending doom. Listen, they're already talking about it."

Arthur pointed to where the table was in a state of shock, confusion, and (in some cases) rage.

"_Arthur's gay?"_

"_Whoa! Al, dude! You're all red bro!"_

"_Tino, aren't going to, like, say something? Punch his lights out."_

Romano shook his head.

"Why would you-?"

"Because it's Eliza. I would do the same for you in a heartbeat. Or faster if that were possible. Now, if you excuse me gentleman, I have to go read Harry Potter aloud to some emo children."

He gave them a short salute and left the lion's den before the claws came out.

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

"So then, Nearly Headless Nick was all, like, _Half an inch of skin and sinew holding my neck on Harry!_...Ew. Why does Harry need to know that? That's just gross."

Spread across the gray couch was Feliks Łukasiewicz. His blonde hair was secure underneath a black fedora; the ends wisped around red cheeks. A toothpick of a nose was buried into his scarf, barely peeking out. He betrayed how cold he really was with a sneeze, muffled by the fabric.

Pouting, he crossed his legs (clad in black and pink skinny jeans, Arthur noted) and buttoned up his black sweater vest.

"I mean, seriously, I do not need that mental image!"

"And so the hipster has spoken."

Elizaveta giggled as the blonde threw a pillow at her.

"I'm a stylish hipster okay? See the jeans!" Feliks adjusted his wide rimmed glasses and smirked.

"Like, don't be jealous Liz. I'm doing steam-punk fashion tomorrow if you want to join me."

"Nah, I'm…Whoa."

Arthur glanced up, hearing her sharp intake of breath. Feliks grabbed the Hungarian's phone.

"What is it? Let me see! Let me-. Oh my God."

The two looked from the screen, then slowly up at Arthur, catching the Brit with a cookie in his mouth. Instead of replying, he elegantly raised a brow.

"Artie. I, uh,-."

"You did _not_ kiss Alfred Frickin Jones!"

He spluttered. Cookie crumbs went everywhere. Choking, he looked away from the two as his eyes began to water.

"Explain yourself!"

A strange stinging in his eyes, Arthur Kirkland could only say,

"Gilbert has one damn big mouth."

/

"Did that seriously just happen? Because I don't think that just happened."

Shock. That was all he could feel. He couldn't think. His brain was useless. His insides had turned to mush. His heart had stopped.

And his lips tasted like the Vargas' pasta.

(Looking back on this fact, he probably should've been worried about where Arthur's mouth had been.)

Slowly, he began to register his surroundings.

People were shaking him, running their hands through his hair, grabbing him by the shoulder, feeling him up, yelling in his ear.

"Are you ok?"

"Shouldn't we, like, tell a teacher?"

"Who does he think he is?"

"Ve~! You have some of fratello's pasta sauce on your lips! See, Ludwig, you can tell by the thickness of it! That's the difference between our pasta sauces! Romano likes it thick and I like it thin!"

"Veneciano, I don't think it's a very good idea to poke him like that. Let's get to the art room."

His vision cleared. He saw the telltale brown curl and warm brown eyes. He saw the slicked back blonde locks and piercing blue.

With a thick tongue, he shakily asked.

"Can I go with you guys?"

/

"Dudes, Mom knows what her son's been doing."

Gilbert gave Romano a pass, running to guard Antonio.

"What?"

Antonio swiftly set a pick on Matthew, allowing the Italian to drive to the hoop for an easy lay-up.

"'Elizaveta_ knows what Arthur did this lunch period'_ is what he said."

"Then the bastard should've said that. That's two more points for us."

"Score?" Matthew asked.

"23-20. Them." Gilbert replied. He dribbled for a second, eying Antonio mischievously. "I think something pretty awesome has started boys."

"Just don't screw it up." Romano warned, trying to swipe the ball away. He missed, allowing Gilbert to shoot a three-pointer.

"You wound me darling." The albino blew Romano a kiss just as the ball fell through the net.

/

"What the heck happened after I left? Like, shit hits the fan every time I freakin' leave a room! So, give us all the details! Was he a good kisser?"

Feliks sidled up to Arthur, ravenous for a juicy story. The punk was slightly uncomfortable with the new atmosphere. He cleared his throat.

"I just…wanted to give them something new to talk about."

"_Aww."_

"W-What?"

Feliks and Elizaveta glanced at each other. Their smirks matched; both were impish, knowing and made Arthur feel really embarrassed.

"Hey Artie, what do your dog tags say? I'd bet five bucks one says loyalty."

"I don't own any dog tags. What're you talking abou-?"

"_Oh crap! I'm such an idiot!"_

Green eyes turned just as Elizaveta ran out of the library. Confused, Feliks and Arthur hurried after her.

/

It was such a simple melody, yet it brought out his entire being. His happiness, his sadness, his fears, his triumphs, what he loved. All of them were brought out so clearly in that song.

He sat alone in that choir room, fingers rapidly pressing the piano keys. He had his eyes closed.  
>Sheet music wasn't necessary. He knew the composition by heart.<p>

Words swirled in his head, turning into thoughts, which turned into memories.

Memories of such a lonely childhood, placed in a prestigious Catholic school and being dragged from therapist to therapist to find out exactly what was wrong with him. His days only lit up for an hour, when he could witness her smile.

_The music became softer, more elegant. Peaceful._

She was beautiful. A red rose in a garden of crazy, weird, yet faithful blue tulips. She was nothing like the rest of the girls that chased him. Monique craved too much attention. Tasha was…Tasha. Sara was a nightmare.

_It was jarring now. Discordant keys played up a flurry as he grimaced._

She was there for him every day, always listening to whatever song he had to play. He doubted that she noticed his own weight fluxes, tired eye bags, and miserable days, but he certainly noticed hers when she started. He used to blame himself, thinking he passed it onto her. Like it was some disease and he was the virus that infected her.

_No longer harsh, but swelling with sadness and regret._

On October 26th Roderich Edelstein was diagnosed with Depression. **His birthday. **He was legally named a freak on his birthday. A year later, Elizaveta Héderváry had similar symptoms.

_No grace. No elegance. Constant key smashing._

Then there were the Sophomore Slumps.

_Soundless._

Applause.

"Étonnate! What a composition! Such anger! Such sadness! And a lovely spice of nostalgia! Magnificent!"

"Oh? You sound excitable Francis. What cycle state are you in?"

The blonde clambered down the steps and sat on the edge of the stage.

"I'm at the second month of neutrality. Judging by my journal, I should be heading into a depressive episode soon."

"Hmm. I still don't see how you can predict when a new state will start." Roderich calmed himself, putting on a farce of indifference.

Francis didn't say a word as the pianist once again expressed himself through music.

/

He was going to kill the Beilschmidt bastard. First, he and Antonio just _had_ to lose by two frickin' points. Then the albino freak had the nerve to throw frickin' water on his head! Romano spent a lot of time on his hair in the morning. (His curl had to look perfect damn it!) Gilbert definitely needed to be punished. He was gonna choke the German jackass with wurst.

Right after this ceremony of course.

Scowling slightly, he glanced around the room. Arthur finally got his dog tags. That was good. That made everything official. He was one of them before but the accessory gave the world proof.

"Ooh, let me see!" Feliks cooed, admiring the silver.

Romano didn't need to go up. He already knew what the tags said. He was, after all, the one that helped Elizaveta and Francis decide on them.

_Valor_ on one, with the outline of a lion behind it. _Strength_ on the other, with the head of a wolf on the backside.

They had to talk to Holly Kirkland to come up with the wolf idea. Arthur may question the picture now, but it would soon make sense.

Elizaveta seemed proud of herself. She grinned smugly as she stood next to Roderich. Even the Austrian seemed livelier. (Was it just him, or was the mood really gloomy before he ran in with Gilbert?)

The Prussian was fooling around with the Spanish teppista, jumping and yelling because they managed to cover the security camera with Gilbert's hat. It was a wonder that they didn't get caught yet. Weren't they supposed to be in 8th period now?

Matthew and Francis were the only quiet ones. Well, Matthew suddenly disappeared again so he had to be silent. But seeing Francis so reserved when they were partying illegally (by school standards) was really strange.

Romano knew better than to directly approach the Frenchman, but he kept a close eye on him. If their leader needed to talk, he would listen.

After all, the bastard took all of Romano's own problems and gave back the best solution that the Italian could ever receive.

/

Francis Bonnefoy was feeling edgy. He could put on a calm, happy mask, but for how long would it stay in place? Romano has already seen through him. He could tell by the way the Italian eyed him from across the room.

He could feel it. It slowly seeped into his armor, binding him, dragging him down.

A terrible despair.

He knew what was coming. He would begin to feel tired, resentful. He would snap at Gilbert and Antonio, if he weren't careful. He would feel lonely, and rightfully so. No one else knew what it felt like. Roderich had the basic gist of it, but couldn't truly comprehend.

He felt like leaving. He felt like crying. He felt like dying.

But just last week, he felt on top of the world. He could laugh like a maniac with Gilbert. He could tease Romano, and take whatever comeback the Italian made as a mere joke.

But now, he didn't know what could send him over the edge. He had pills. He could feel them in the pocket of his blazer. He had taken them this morning just in case. Francis supposed that he was lucky. Not many people could predict their cycle like he could. He was recording his mood swings before they diagnosed him. He had 8 years of emotions and tantrums documented in his journal. It took him 5 years to figure out the pattern.

Sometimes, his predictions would be off the mark. He thought he would have another day or two of neutrality, but obviously not.

Could he leave the party? Should he leave Arthur's final initiation when he was the reason these celebrations could be held in the first place?

He was the founder of the Sophomore Slumps. He was the one that gathered all of the kids with '_issues_'.

He had no right to leave. He shouldn't be selfish. Look at what Arthur's going through. He couldn't go through half of it. He was weak. He wasn't as strong as Arthur.

He was lucky Arthur trusted him to fix his relationship problems. Even though he wasn't doing such a good job of it.

What was he doing anyway? Nothing. He was such a lazy, worthless pig. He didn't deserve the cookies they were passing out. So what if he was hungry? Why couldn't someone with a higher worth have that cookie?

He didn't deserve to laugh. He didn't deserve to cry. He didn't deserve to breath.

Did he even deserve to die?

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo was having the time of his life.

"Come on Romano! Dance with me!" He prodded the Italian's cheek, relishing the blush that rose as a result.

Ah, they were so soft. Like a soft churro. Were his cheeks that soft when he was a freshman?

…No. Flipping acne. It was only on his jaws too. Why did it have to ruin his chances of having churro-soft cheeks?

"Damn it bastard. For the fifth fucking time no! Go bother Gilbert or something!"

The Italian swatted his hand away but he seemed…distracted? The Spaniard's eyes narrowed as Romano craned his head to look past him.

Usually the Italian focused on Antonio when he decided to push the freshman around. What could be more interesting than a handsome Spanish athlete that's invading your personal space?

Slyly, green eyes followed the Italian's gaze onto…Francis?

Why did the French have to be so attractive?

Dear God no. He did not spend the past 2 years flirting (teasing, semi-bullying, annoying, whatever-you-can-call-it) with Romano just to have his best friend whisk him away. Now Toni has to try out the whole Romeo-Juliet plan early! Stupid Francis. Screwing up his entire schedule.

"Have a cookie Roma. You're too skinny." He said brightly.

He could grin, but on the inside he was boiling. With as much composure as possible, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He and Francis had fought over Romano before. Antonio had won of course. He was definitely not afraid to do it again.

They had better get it over with fast though. Wouldn't want to break the SS laws now would they?

The Spaniard focused, putting some of his ferocity into his stride. Anger would cloud his vision, make him wild. He had been into enough fights to know that going in full of rage would result in a bloody defeat. Or even alone in a dark alley. But, that was a story for another day.

All of the Spaniard's focus went to waste however, once the blue eyes of his very best friend turned onto him.

One glance. That's all it took for his anger to morph into concern. He dropped to give the blonde a tight hug.

"I have a water bottle in my bag. I'm sure I can get you out of here without drawing too much attention."

He felt the blonde take a deep breath.

"_Merci_."

"What are friends for? _Tres amigos, si? _All for one and one for all."

Antonio released the Frenchman and slowly pushed him to the floor. He kicked Francis' backside to urge him to move towards the door, under the seats of course.

That was the good thing about the Auditorium. The amount of seats to hide under, and how dark it was. He had snuck out of too many freshman assemblies using these seats and lighting to his advantage.

"I gotta go pee." He announced once Francis made it out of the door.

"Eww gross!"

"Like, keep that to yourself Carlos!"

Did he need to remind Feliks that his name was actually Antonio?...Nah, he would probably forget again. Besides, Francis needed him more.

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

Did they think he was stupid or something? He could _see _Antonio pick up his backpack. Who the hell takes their backpack to the bathroom when you have people that can watch it for you?

Honestly, his friends were starting to underestimate his awesomeness.

"I gotta go scope the scene." He said to no one in particular.

He pulled on his hoodie and shades. Aww yeah. It was time for Gilbert Beilschmidt to go H.A.M and cheese on some bitches.

He snuck out of the auditorium James Bond style, jumping over seats (No he did not trip) and sliding against walls. He rolled on the floor to make a grand exit. It was like Draco Malfoy from A Very Potter Musical, only more awesome.

No, you can't understand that reference. You wanna know why? Because you ain't going as H.A.M as Gilbert Beilschmidt right now.

"What do you think you're looking at? You can't see me." Gilbert glared at a Junior until the boy turned and ran.

He had to love being an albino. Scaring upperclassmen was the best. But teachers were another species.

He climbed into an air vent to avoid the wrath of his A.P Government teacher.

"Ha Mr. Dolans. You can't see me."

The teacher only had to whip his head and glance around to send the teen scurrying upwards. When he reached the top, he extended his leg to catch level ground.

God, how could he forget how hard it was to climb up backwards?

Breathless, he wrapped his hoodie tighter around his torso. There were too many spiders and cobwebs in the vent for his liking. If any of it touched his bare skin…Ugh.

He followed the vent on his right confidently. He knew these passages too well. He practically lived in them all freshman year. They were always available for a quick getaway.

Two minutes going straight would be when he would be above Ludwig's Psychology class, and then if he turned left, and made another right, he'd be right above the nearest boy's bathroom. That's where he would drop down.

It took him five minutes to reach his desired destination, less time than expected.

"_You feeling okay?"_

"_I just need to rest a bit mon ami."_

"_We could go to the Nurse's office or maybe just skip and walk to Starbucks."_

So they were planning on ditching him! Those douche bags!

"_Fuuuucckkkkeeeerrrss!"_ He yelled as he jumped down from then air vent, startling the teens into hysterics.

"Not cool amigo. Not cool."

"You wouldn't know cool if it pimpslapped you in the face Tony. Now what's wrong with my little Franny-bear? Is it that time of the month again?"

The blonde rolled his eyes at the terminology.

"Yes Gilbert. Yes it is."

"Here have this cookie."

"Mon dieu no. You want me to eat something that came out of your disgusting, dirty, spider infested jacket?"

"Yup!"

"…Come here. I'll wash your hair for you."

"I think I have some shampoo in my backpack too."

"Well aren't you just like Nanny McPhee?" Francis snorted, taking the bottle away from the Spaniard.

"I don't suppose you have a towel in there?"He added when he was scrubbing out webs that managed to creep into the albino's hair.

"I have a spare gym shirt."

"No! You sweated in that!"

"Says the guy that wanted to feed me a cookie that came out of the air vents."

"Look, if you won't eat it I will.

"Really?"

"Hell no."

The temperature of the water gradually increased until Gilbert had to jerk away from the burning.

"I'm sorry! Gott, I'm sorry!"

Never defy Francis before the meds kick in. He should've known better.

Green eyes watched the blonde attempt to drown his friend in the sink with a bittersweet sense of gratitude.

"We should do something" Antonio announced suddenly, trademark smile appearing.

"We should," Gilbert agreed, shoving Francis away. He wrapped his hoodie around his head as a makeshift towel. "I really do not feel like going home today."

"Did you get into another fight with your parents?"

"When _don't_ I get into fights with them Toni?"

Francis sighed. It was a strange sigh, however, sounding more like a heave of resignation than a breath of fatigue. Gilbert picked up on this immediately.

"You have to come with us Frannypants! No emo-ness this time! I found this awesome dessert shop with chocolate stuffed croissants and raspberry sugar cookies and stuff!"

He purposely mentioned the Frenchman's favored desserts, hoping to get his friend to simply entertain the idea.

"I wish to be alone for bit. I'm really tired. Today has been…stressful."

"It'll just be the four of us," Gil insisted. "The cow can find something to do with Roderich. Romano's going to the skate park, and Mattie's grounded so he can't go anywhere but to school."

Francis's eyes lit up, but only briefly, out of interest.

"My sweet cousin is under house arrest? What did he do?"

Gilbert waved the question off.

"Some crazy fight with his step-dad over the Thanksgiving weekend."

The blonde blinked, and then snickered. The albino gave a small, inward hoot of victory. He was making progress!

"Why are you laughing? It's not funny! I was supposed to take him to that carnival in town!"

"You're such a bad influence on Matthieu. I should never have let him meet you."

"Just wait till we're cousins-in-law Francis. Just wait."

"Oh, so you're going to-?"

"Are we going to the cake shop amigos or did I get my hopes up for nothing?"

Crimson eyes pleadingly looked at the blonde. There was a moment (during which Antonio pulled out a Twix) and finally,

"Only for the croissants. We'll be there for 10 minutes Gil. I really need to sleep. Only ten minutes mon ami!"

Francis had to shout as Gilbert ran out of the bathroom, yelling with glee as the bell signaling the end of school sounded.

Aww yeah. He could cheer up those afflicted with depression. He was _that_ good.

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

"Gilbert's terrible. I can't believe he still thinks we can't see him. I can see him. Oh my god. Why don't they just tell me what's up? Why don't they tell me Feliks?"

Elizaveta huffed, sitting next to the blonde as Gilbert scampered through the doorway of the auditorium, not bothering to offer an explanation.

Comfortingly, her friend ran his fingers through her hair.

"They're boys, and really close ones at that. You got to, like, let them do what they need to do," His fingers left her locks, waving through the air. "And if it's necessary they'll tell you what's going on. You've got to give guys their space y'know? Like, if you jump into their business, they'll push you away and you don't want that."

"…What's up with the crazy hand gestures?"

Their eyes met for a good minute, and the two burst out laughing.

"All jokes aside," Arthur said, staring warily at the door. "I'm not sure whether leaving them to their own devices would be safe."

"Relax British kid. Tell, you what, it's almost time to go home. While they're doing whatever they're doing, we'll go to Sector 3 and, like, really party!"

"What's Sector 3?"

Feliks jumped up, eyes wide and lips forming an 'O'.

"What do you mean what's Sector 3? I…! Oh my god Liz. You didn't tell him what Sector 3 is?"

Guiltily, the teen stared up at the boy.

"Well, I don't think that he'll want to-."

The blonde raised his hand, stopping her mid sentence. He pompously raised his nose, shutting his eyes.

"Like, don't talk to me. Talk to the British kid."

"But-!"

"Did you say something? I can't hear you."

Elizaveta gave him a withering glare to which he only smirked. He couldn't see her expression, but he could feel her annoyance.

"So Sector 3 is like an Underground Club-No, hangout-for teenagers to go and just party. You can have bands perform, meet up with friends, make new ones. They have some events too."

"The Halloween Bash was totally filthy. I don't know what you guys were, like, doing. You should have went with me."

"We wanted to go Trick or Treating!" Elizaveta protested.

"Isn't that when Gilbert got beaten up?"

Matthew nodded, answering Romano's question.

"Yeah, he scared some Senior's little brother and the Senior went after him."

"Anyway," Elizaveta continued. "We would've gone with you today but we have fashion club."

"We do?"

The girl rolled her eyes.

"Feliks. The winter sketches are due today. Didn't you hear the announcements?"

"Crap! It's, like, the end of 8th period too! Give me your sketches real quick! Or even _Seventeen _magazine! I need inspiration!"

As if to mock the distressed student, the bell rang, signaling the end of school.

Romano hopped of his seat.

"I've got to go down to the skate park. If the French bastard decides to speak up, text me."

He dashed out with only a short salute as a goodbye.

"I'm under house arrest." Matthew groaned. Arthur snickered.

"Tell Step-Daddy Jones I said 'Hello'."

"I doubt he'll want to hear from you when Al tells him what happened," The Canadian grumbled, slamming the door when he left.

"What're you two doing? Roddy? Artie?"

"I've got to get out of here before I get caught by some jocks. Lord knows what'll happen now that the Devilish Trio is missing."

"I will simply stay here."

The brunette frowned. "Are you sure Roddy?"

He avoided her gaze, tapping the keys gently.

"Uh, I'll be in Mrs. Swift's room Liz."

"Yeah, um, have a splendid day love."

Seeing this as their cue to leave, the blondes made a swift escape.

Elizaveta didn't even hear the door close.

She timidly snuggled up against her boyfriend's arm, enticing the boy to shift her bangs and place a chaste kiss on her forehead.

They sat silently for a spell before the boy's hands became reckless. Music flowed from spindly fingers. Once again, he didn't need sheet music. He had played this one daily.

She knew it as well.

"This is my lullaby." She murmured. The pianist gave no response. He simply played, letting the notes blend with the light _whish _of their breathing.

"You two don't have to go through it alone." She said when the song had finished.

"We never are truly alone. We have each other, and I have you. We just…take care of the minor details by ourselves."

"I don't know how Francis can deal with being bipolar. Depression is a hard thing to deal with.

Exhaling, the sophomore shut the piano.

"It's not hard," He finally made eye contact. "It's just misunderstood."

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

Alfred wasn't really sure what to think. He wasn't even really sure if he could think. He just let his hands move; staring blankly at the wood he was painting.

"Good job Al! At this rate we'll have them ready for Mrs. Florence! Veh~! Ludwig! See what a good job Al did!"

The blonde looked up, offered a "That's very nice artwork.", and returned to his Geometry homework.

But this was enough for Feliciano. The Italian beamed proudly, his entire stature enlivened.

"If Ludwig says that it's good, then it must be amazing!"

"Thanks Feli."

Was that his voice? Why did he sound so weak? So…lost? Where was his usual confident swagger? Where was his peppy, courageous heart?

Probably wandering around with some British kid.

"I…I gotta get to basketball practice."

That feeble was how he managed to escape the art room, out into the 'pits' of their school. Quickly, he zipped up his jacket. The pits, or the art and music class section of their school, were always freezing no matter what the season was.

It was annoying when you climbed up the stairs to join the rest of the school. Suddenly going from below zero to boiling couldn't be good for his system. Arthur was always-.

Oh dear God. He preferred it when he couldn't think.

"Hey, Yong Soo."

He stopped the Korean by grabbing onto his jacket.

Naturally, the freshman was glad to see that someone of such a high rank wanted to speak with him. _Prince Alfred_. The famous_ Prince Alfred_ wanted to speak with him. The _future king of the monarchy_ wanted to speak to him.

He could now die happy.

"Oh hey Jones," Al recognized that tone. Why did they always try to play it cool? Honestly, looking like a poser wouldn't get them into his inner circle. "Check out my new kicks! They're tricked out Air Jordans! Don't they look filthy cool?"

'_You just say filthy. Not filthy cool.' _Al had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

"They're pretty sick. I like the black and blue shoe laces. School pride is everything." He said, deciding to humor the kid.

If the boy's smile got any bigger, Alfred was pretty sure that he would explode. Which would be terrible because Al's jacket was new.

"Look, can you tell coach that I can't make practice today? I've got some stuff that I need to take care of."

The boy nodded energetically. (Al couldn't help but compare him to a bobble head.)

"Y-Y-Yeah! I can do that bro! But, wait, why can't you make practice? Don't we got a game this week?"

"I just can't. Hurry up and tell for me."

He flicked his wrist to send the boy scampering away. Soothingly, he removed his glasses and rubbed his weary eyes.

God, he just wanted to crash. And he still had A.P Global homework. Damn it.

Alfred pulled out his phone, dialing a number he already knew well.

'_Hello?'_

"We need to talk. Right now. Meet me in Junior Hall."

'_I can't. I have to-.'_

"Look, my coach is going to rip out my throat for thinking about missing basketball practice. If I can risk dying, I'm sure you can miss whatever or whoever you're going to."

'…_Who's room are you by?'_

The jock kicked opens a door to find a youthful teacher typing away at his laptop. The man glanced up, silently questioning why the youth's of this generation insisted on hitting everything that was school property.

"Who're you?" The blonde asked.

"Mr. Saporta. I'm one of the Spanish teachers."

"Thank you sir."

The door slammed to a close.

"Mr. Saporta. Room 367."

'_I totally love Mr. Saporta! He's so funny!'_

"Well that's nice. Get here."

He hung up without uttering a single goodbye.

/

I'm back! Actually, I was technically back at the beginning of this month, but then I mentioned Roderich's birthday in this chapter and decided to hold off. I apologize to anyone that saw that I was going to post on October 5th. If it makes you feel better, I wouldn't have posted till the 6th anyway. The 5th was my birthday and I was really busy.

New info:

Updates will no longer be on Friday nor will they be once every week. They'll be every two weeks, and the day has not been decided. Honors classes and clubs kill. If I can get chapters out early. Occasional one-shots with no real significance to the story will be posted too. But, it'll be separate from the main story. More info on that later.

Just so you know, artwork for this story is totally allowed as long as it's not discriminatory or offensive and you reference back to this fic. I totally don't mind. Someone had asked me about this earlier. If you get an idea from this story, then go ahead and draw. That's creative freedom I think? Something like that.

Once again, critic is welcomed. Thank you all for reading this story.

Preview: Tension is high as the Winter Formal approaches. Sinister plots are made. The King of the Monarchy takes a stand. Our star-crossed lovers are distracted from their relationship problems for a little while. And Lina Zwingli finally grows a backbone…Kind of.


	14. 12:Tonight It's It can't get much worse

Chapter 12: Tonight It's "It can't get much worse" vs. "No one should ever feel like"

Sunday December 9th, 9:12 A.M

_On December 9th, he expected simply to chill at home, reading a bit from his A.P books here and there. Maybe he would clean up his room a bit, or sit down and read from his Inheritance Cycle collection._

_It was supposed to be a normal Sunday. He wasn't supposed to feel hurt or betrayed._

_But, as he slowly set his tea cup down, eying the wreck that was Francis Bonnefoy from across his kitchen table, what he felt was worse than when Alfred abandoned him for Tino._

"_What?"_

"_I'm not going to repeat myself mon ami."_

_And Francis really didn't have to. He should've noticed it really. There were so many hints. The empty look in those blue eyes, how thin the teen looked, how pale those chiseled features were…Hell, his hair was unkempt. Francis Bonnefoy did not run a brush through his glorious hair that morning. That should have screamed out at Arthur! They've been friends for months and yet…_

_Arthur still couldn't notice that Francis had a bipolar disorder?_

"_What kind of friend am I?"_

"_A pretty good one, considering the fact that we still hated each other's guts five months ago."_

"_God, I'm sorry."_

"_What for?" Francis grimaced, flicking a strand of blonde off his shoulder. "To be truthful, I had to tell Gil before he realized. The same with Antonio, and they're two of my closest friends."_

_Blue eyes glanced up, holding Arthur's gaze with tired amusement. _

"_Maybe the fact that you didn't notice is a sign of some sort."_

_This didn't make the teen feel any better,_

"_Why are you telling me this now Francis?"_

"_You have a week Arthur," The teen explained. "Every one of the Sophomore Slumps has an issue. You need to know these issues so you don't ruin a relationship by mistake. You really insulted me the other day."_

"_I apologize. What did I do?"_

_Francis waved it off. _

"_If you don't remember, then don't bother. Just watch yourself when you speak about depression. Some of us haven't completely…Never mind. Figure out all of our issues by January 3__rd__, including your own. If you manage, you'll win this challenge."_

"_What happens if I lose?"_

_The blonde shrugged. _

"_Nothing. But we have great expectations for you. Don't fail."_

-~S.S.C.O.T.Y~-

December 16, 12:12 P.M

'_That's what you said Francis_,'

Green eyes scrutinized the teens surrounding him. Was Antonio's happiness just an act? How about Gil? He couldn't really be that arrogant.

'_But do you really think I can do this?'_

"Artie! Artie!"

"Ah! S-Sorry chaps, what were you saying?"

Romano scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"I was saying that if you're going to get that tattoo, you should go during Winter Break. We were planning to go down to New York City, but apparently you zoned out. Pay attention bastard."

Antonio shook his head.

"_Su cabeza esta vacio._"

"Yeah, yeah, we should go."

The bus rumbled beneath him as he faded out of the conversation once more. He watched Gilbert animatedly discuss the plan, and Romano counter with a loud voice and flamboyant hand motions.

God, why didn't he pay attention in psychology class? Weren't hand motions a sign for something? A cry for attention?

He just didn't know.

"Arthur Kirkland! Wake up!"

He jolted as Romano twisted his ear.

"Ow. Stop that I say!"

"I'm sorry. Do you want me to kiss it better?"

"He would if you were Alfred."

Elizaveta gave Antonio a high five as the male snickered at his own remark.

"Dudes, so I was saying that we should call and make an appointment at Kat's so she has her needles and ink ready as soon as we get there."

"Yeah, I-."

Wait. Did Gilbert just say needles? Sharp pointy object needles? _Fucking needles_ that were going to enter his _flesh_?

"Fuck no."

"…What?"

"You never told me that tattoos required needles."

"Well, what did you think that they used?"

"They use inking pens!"

There was a long silence as the bus rumbled on. One could hear a coin drop, and the vulgar cursing of an old man as he stooped to pick the money up.

"Artie."

"What?"

"Of all the stupid things I have heard today, that takes the cake. And Gilbert arrived at my house at six this morning."

"Wait, wait," Lina intervened. They all stood as the bus stopped. "Does that mean you're afraid of needles?"

"Terribly afraid of them. Sewing needles are fine. But if they penetrate my skin, I just…Ugh."

The two girls in the group shared a look.

"Just like Gerard Way!" They squealed as they sped into the store. Arthur, once more, sighed and willed away a migraine.

The Luxia was heavily decked out for the holidays. Millions of Christmas lights lined the mall, snaking up the escalators, store windows, fountains and even the trashcans. In the glow of the multi colors were paper snowflakes, each with their own unique design, scattered across the place. Wreaths and stockings hung on store doors. But the greatest sights of all, was the humongous evergreen tree standing tall and proud in the center of the mall. Garlands, tinsel, ornaments and glitter covered this mighty figure, lining up to meet at the glowing gold star at the top.

"Beautiful isn't it?"

Arthur nodded, turning and expecting to find Romano, but another stood in his place.

He seemed to be only a year older than the Brit, with the slender yet toned physique of a swift athlete. Jet black hair topped his head in a messily attractive manner. Two silver snakebites and a diamond stud shone in the light of a blue Christmas light, bringing out his cerulean eyes. The teen smirked, and Arthur's knees wobbled.

"I love this place around Christmas," he continued, "The lights are my favorite."

Arthur didn't speak, eyes glued to the teen's chest.

"But," He gave an impish wink, "You should really see this place at _midnight_."

"That jacket-."

"What?"

"That leather, black jacket. That's from the 2008 Rock star Collection by William Livingston. Where'd you get it? How much was it? What's emotional attachment to it? Can I buy it off of you for a discount?"

Mystery man chuckled, a smooth sound that reminded Arthur of velvet and chocolates.

Or maybe that was the jacket getting to his head. The Rock star Collection jacket that was only found in three different states!

"Tell, you what. I'll let you have it for now, and I'll take it back when I see you next."

He had to be dreaming. He wasn't holding the jacket in his hands. A total stranger did not just give him one of the rarest jackets in the entire U.S.A.

When he remembered his manners, and looked up to thank the teen, he was already gone.

'_Do you feel like a man_

_When you push her around?_

_Do you feel better now_

_As she falls to the-?_

"_Oh my gawd, Artie. You are way too old to be getting lost."_

"I'm coming Eliza. Where are you exactly?"

"_Macy's. Come quick. Antonio's forcing Romano into dresses."_

Arthur had never run so fast in his life.

Hours upon hours they spent, shopping for dresses, jeans, makeup, and shoes. Lots and lots of shoes.

"Elizaveta, I'm begging you, please. You already have five pairs. What more do you need?"

Arthur struggled to breathe as he carried five different shopping bags. The woman before him was Spartan when it came to shopping, carrying ten in total and balancing a box on top of her head.

"We just need to get to Hot Topic to say hi to Zane."

"_Ugh."_ An audible response came from each of them, all struggling under their immense load of shopping bags.

"Stop whining! You guys have clothes too!"

"Woman, all I bought was a new blazer!"

"Si! And all I needed were a new pair of hi-tops!"

"All I'm getting from Hot Topic is a pair of red skinny jeans! I haven't even bought anything cow!"

Matthew shook his head.

"Why did we agree with their plan to wear skinny jeans and blazers to Winter Formal?"

"Just remember the Jonas Brothers. Lots of teenage girls loved the Jonas Brothers. That's the thought that gets me through this." said Arthur.

"At least we bought black jeans. They don't look bad with dress shoes."

"But Elizaveta bought Francis white."

"I still can't wait to see what my cousin does with those,"

"_Lina!"_

All present recognized that accent. A shudder ran down Arthur's spine as he thought of all the students expelled, demerits given, detentions served, and children crying all due to the owner of that voice.

"B-Big Brother Vash!"

Vash Zwingli came into view, and immediately made Arthur choke. He could keep his composure, but Gilbert was already in a heap with all his shopping bags, laughing his head off.

"G-Gott Vash! Did you win the Ugly Sweater contest? 'C-Cause-damn-that's one hideous thing! Holy-! It lights up! I l-lights-Hahahaha!"

Turning a furious shade of red, Vash withdrew his famous Swiss Army Knife from his pocket and approached Gilbert quickly.

"…They let you in with that?"

Growling with annoyance, the teen turned away, his Rudolph sweater blinking all the while.

"You didn't go to church today. I got concerned and Father said that you came here. I find you and you're wearing such…vulgar clothing. What is that Lili?"

"It's my Winter Formal dress."

In his own opinion, Arthur didn't believe the dress to be that bad. Compared to short number the other girls (Emily Liberty) would be wearing, Lina was reasonably modest.

She had thrown on the dress as soon as she bought it, so she could avoid carrying it. It was an elegant, strapless piece that flowed to her knees. While it was tight at her stomach, she still appeared sophisticated and whimsical rather than trashy. The silver stilettos she had picked out set the dress off rather nicely as well.

"It's much too short."

"What do you want her to look like a freakin' nun? She isn't going to get any game that way!"

"Gasp! Roma!"

"Don't gasp at me Toni! You know it's true!"

Vash glared at the two.

"So that's what this is about? It thought you got over that silly little crush!"

"Crush?" Now Antonio truly did gasp. "On who?"

"Brother, please, you're embarrassing me. I don't have any particular liking for Jesper anymore."

"Jesper!" Arthur exclaimed. "Like _I-Drink-Beer-And-Swing-Big-Axes _Jesper?"

"How do you know my Senior friends Kirkland?"

Arthur shushed Gil, staring in amazement as the girl turned a bright shade of crimson. Out of all the people in the world that Lina could be attracted to, she had to choose a Senior?

Wasn't that illegal?

"Lina, I am giving you one chance. Return that dress and come home with-."

"No."

If he weren't so sure that he was awake, the Brit would've pinched himself. Lina Zwingli just refused to comply with her elder brother's demands. Vash, equally as shocked, stared at the girl with wide eyes.

"I'm going to Winter Formal. I'm going to wear this dress. Broth-No, _Vash_, - I want to have fun! I'm not…I'm not a child anymore. I may be your little sister, but I'm still a teenage girl. I need space. A little bit of room to breathe. I'm not asking for much, and I know you can do this small favor. So, let me spread my wings for a bit?"

She ran forward to hug her brother, choking back tears all the while. Vash hesitated at first, and then slowly wrapped his arms around her petite frame.

"If you ever fall, I'll be there to catch you until you're ready to try flying again." He murmured into her shoulder.

_Aww_!

The chorus surprised Arthur. Looking around, he felt the red tint travel up his neck as he saw that they had somehow managed to attract a crowd.

"Lord, I am so done with this. You guys can stay here all you want. I'm going to get a drink. I'll meet you at the front benches."

Why were they so dramatic? Hell, why did the people in his town go insane for such dramatics? There was no need for it. They could easily continue their shopping and ignore the scene taking place by the second floor fountain, but _nooo_. They just had to come and make Arthur feel so embarrassed, as if he didn't have enough confidence problems already.

At least Lina had finally stood her ground against her brother. Undoubtedly, she learned that from Elizaveta and Gilbert. At least the Slumps had managed to teach him something.

"I bet you're proud of yourself."

"Hmm?"

He quirked a brow at the teen before him.

"Good Evening Natalia. How do you do?"

The girl upturned her nose, drawing her earmuffs away from her head, and shaking out her long hair.

"Save the formalities swine. I am only here to warn you."

Coolly, Arthur didn't flinch from her glare as she took predatory steps towards him, black boots clicking with each stride.

"If you ever interfere with Monarchy affairs like you have done previously, I will make sure that your life ends by Senior year. You will regret being born, do you understand piglet?"

"I'm sorry. I was thinking about Mumsy's chocolate chip cookies. Were you saying something?"

There was a stand-off. Within the irises of each pair of eyes, there stood a will, and only one was able to keep enough determination to get to the prize.

Natalia broke the connection, leering down at the black jacket the Brit had received. Scowling, she sniffed it.

"Heta pachnie, jak jon. _Č_amu hety pach, jak jon?"

"Excuse me?"

"Where did you get this?" The teen demanded, pulling him by his collar.

"A friend."

"Tch. A pig will always be a pig. I won't ask you about what you did to get this jacket."

She released him, pushing him backwards. He did not move an inch. (Silently, he offered Antonio an extensive thank you.)

"I strongly suggest you cut all ties with The Monarchy. We control the school's social system. We can crush you."

"I strongly suggest that you quit talking like we're on Star Wars or something. God, Americans and their dramatics. I've had enough of this for one day. Leave, and I'll forget to tell Elizaveta that you were here."

"Are you trying to _dismiss_ me?"

Arthur waved his hand nonchalantly, taking a sip of the Dr. Pepper he had bought previously.

"No, love, you've already been _dismissed._"

For good measure, he yawned and took out his phone. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl grit her teeth in rage as he played a game a of glow hockey.

Eventually, she huffed and marched away, leaving him to ponder over his thoughts.

Perhaps he shouldn't have sent her away so rudely. But she called him swine! For no particular reason at all!

Narrowing his eyes, he watched the girl slowly become a pinprick of color within the usual weekend crowd.

There was only one thing he was sure of.

With ease, he tossed the empty bottle into the nearest trash can and stuffed his phone into his pocket.

There were rough storms ahead.

-~S.S.C.O.T.Y~-

December 21. 5:45 P.M

_Ding-Dong_

"Roma! One of your friends is here!"

"I'm coming. I'm coming."

Pulling up the waist of his black jeans, Romano sped for the door before his brother could come crashing down the stairs.

"Arthur Kirkland's looking sexy today."

The Brit grinned, adjusting the collar of his black blazer.

"Why thank you sir. You don't look half bad yourself."

"I'm Italian. I make everything look attractive. Even skinny jeans in a Formal Event."

Romano was dressed similarly to Arthur. His dark jeans matched his vest and tie combo. His fitted, red dress shirt complimented the dark tones nicely.

Arthur wore a white dress shirt, and a normal blazer. Instead of fancy dress shoes like Romano's, he settled for a black pair of Van's high tops. It was partly casual, and barely passable for the event, but he liked it.

It's not like anyone other than his friends matter right?

"I can't wait to see what Gilbert's done with his red jeans."

His comrade snorted, moving to let the Brit in.

"They don't look half bad. I didn't think Francis could make white skinnies work for this, but the Frenchie can work miracles with tight clothing."

"And Antonio's gray color isn't that bad so I'm not worried about him."

Romano shrugged, reddening.

"He doesn't look terrible. But, god, if they try to pull this again at Junior or Senior prom, I may just slap them."

"It's okay sophomore year. Not cares about sophomore year."

The Italian nodded his agreement. Perceptively, Arthur looked around, eying the usual pieces along the walls. Come to think of it; they hadn't changed anything outside the house either.

"Your family doesn't decorate for Christmas?"

"They will. Eventually."

The teen's tone sounded so decisive that Arthur didn't feel comfortable with bringing the topic up again. They walked in silence as the approached the backyard, where the group was gathered with blankets and mugs of hot chocolate.

A series of greetings followed, some settling for a loud shout, others going through with the entire ritual. Once they were settled, and Arthur had his own mug of hot chocolate, the real conversation began.

"We're gonna have fun today guys!" Elizaveta declared, hanging onto Roderich's arm.

The Austrian, of course, did not follow the skinny jean craze. Being the boyfriend to a girl that went all out for dances, he had to keep up appropriate appearances. He wore a classic tux and contacts for the evening, looking like a suitable suitor for the magnificent young lady at his side.

Elizaveta glowed in the faint light. Her hair was tied up in a prim French twist, adorned with a hairpiece filled with diamonds. A cream, strapless dress hugged her till her waistline, where it fell freely till her ankles. Chic, yet classy.

"Unless the douche bags start something. Then we're gonna have problems."

"They'd go after you first amigo. Bulls always go after red first."

"No fighting for me, mes amis. I still feel so sick."

To Arthur's dismay, the Bad Touch Trio managed to make their jeans look more like colored, fitted dress pants rather than jeans. Francis let the hem of his dress shirt cover the zipper of his jeans, and unbuttoned the first four buttons, drawing more attention to his chest rather than what he was actually wearing.

Gilbert, on the other hand, wore his red jeans with pride, accompanied with a black blazer and an expensive pair of combat boots; he used his _'Fuck-The-Dress-Code-I'm-A-Rich-Kid-So-Suck-It'_ power to screw them all over.

Antonio was the most modest out the three. He wore a white jacket with black lining to set off the gray jeans, and normal dress shoes. His curls were still damp from his shower, lining the nape of his neck in a way that made Romano drool.

Seeing this, Arthur nudged his friend, who turned a dark red.

"I think we should all pair up for the night. You know, so we never lose each other in the crowd or something. Elizaveta and Roderich are automatically a pair as well as Gilbert and Matthew. Francis, you can escort Lina and…how about Antonio and Romano?"

"Deal!"

"W-what? Wait! Who will you have SB?"

Arthur smirked. "I promised my friend that I would monitor the punch bowl to make sure no one double spikes it."

Romano sent him a fierce glare, every so often glancing at Antonio to see what the Spaniard thought. But the teen was all for it, hugging Romano around his shoulders as he animatedly talked with Francis.

Arthur's grin didn't fade.

His plan was going to work. For the entire past week he had been studying psychology books, and had a basic understanding of most issues afflicting teenagers. He would watch the pairs from afar, and deduce whatever he could from his observing, perhaps conducting a small test here and there.

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

"Damn it! Someone already spiked the punch!"

"That's what usually happens at prom Gil. If you wanted to do that, you should've arrived earlier."

Crimson eyes shot a heated glare at a certain brunette.

"Well if the cow didn't take so long reapplying makeup, maybe we would've gotten here a bit earlier."

Arthur chuckled as Elizaveta shot an insult at her friend, setting off an intense battle. Eventually the two huffed, taking their respective partners and moving to opposite corners of the gymnasium. Eventually the others left as well, leaving Arthur to stand guard by the punch and admire his surroundings.

The Event Committee did an amazing job at organizing the Winter Formal. He would have to pay their president, a Junior by the name of Ravis Galante, a compliment.

All light were in shades of blue and white, giving the room and interesting glow as people thrashed and danced to some dub step the DJ was playing. The food was fancier than the usual event menu.

Some way or another, they had managed to supply pigs-in-blanket, spring rolls, cream puffs, biscuits, crostini and the like.

He bit into one of the spring rolls, groaning in contentment. They were still warm.

"Looks good. Can I try one?"

He opened one of his eyes to find electric blues looking right back at him. A quick scan caught an arrogant smirk and disheveled black hair.

"You're that guy from earlier! Sorry chap. I left your jacket at my friend's house. I can get it back to you if you'd give me your name."

The male waved the sentence away, dismissing it. He reached for one the spring rolls Arthur had tried.

"Just keep it for me for a while. I'll tell you when I want it back," He bit into the appetizer. "Sweet. These are still warm."

"Just what I thought."

The other smirked again, sending a tingle down Arthur's spine.

"Come with me." Without giving Arthur the opportunity to object, he grabbed the blonde's hand and ran into the crowd. They weaved through a mass of hormones, grinding, and shuffling for at least a minute, and then they ran up a stairwell.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Trust me, will ya' dollface?"

'_Dollface? If it were anyone else, I would find that nickname atrocious.'_

They burst through a door, onto a balcony. A gust of cold air hit Arthur's chest. He breathed in deeply, relishing the cool, night air and dispelling the warm, sweaty stank of the gym.

"It's not a huge ass Christmas tree, but I guess this is pretty nice to look at too."

The view was nice to look at. The Senior Floor balcony was the highest of all of them, thus having the best view of the sky. The stars twinkled, winking at them as if to say 'Watch_ this.'_

Then the star shower began.

They flew out of the sky, leaving bright white fire blazing in its wake. Spiraling, they tumbled out of their position, reaching for the earth with arms wide open.

Amazement painted Arthur's face. He had never actually seen a shooting star. He had read about them, but had never witnessed one with his own eyes.

"Did you know this was going to happen?"

"Yes. I'm originally a Southern boy so predicting events in nature is kind of my thing."

"Ah, I see."

A warm, strong hand slipped onto his shoulder, slightly pushing him back onto a toned chest.

"Do you know the different constellations?"

"Not very well. No."

The other laughed, sending a wisp of breath across his earlobe.

"Alright, look over there. See that faint clump of stars?"

It took Arthur around a minute, but he finally caught it.

"If you examine it and its surrounding stars carefully, you should be able to make a crab out of it."

"I…Oh, that should be Cancer correct?"

"Smart kid. Those are the stars I was born under. They're really hard to see this time of the year though. When were you born?"

"April 23rd."

"Taurus then."

He pulled Arthur a bit closer, taking the Brit's hand and guiding it up, extending the index finger to a star slightly yellower than the rest.

"That's Aldebaran. It's called the eye of the bull."

"It's beautiful."

"I've seen better."

Arthur turned to look up into those icy blues, and then slowly shifted his gaze down to that boyish smirk.

The air stilled around them as he inclined his head up. Warm breath tickled his cheek as…

The door slammed open.

"Oh. My. God. Arthur! So, like, Emily came out of nowhere and poured purple punch on Lina's _white_ dress then Francis went off on her and slapped him and I was all like 'Aww hell no hoe! Shit's about to go down!' But before I could jump in, Tori like totally held me back and was like 'Lizzy's got it.' And then I saw Elizaveta, who was like, pulling Emily's hair and stuff and I was…Oh, geez, am I interrupting something?"

Feliks looked between the two of them, and then smirked.

"Screw you Feliks."

"I would accept. But, your friend wouldn't be too happy with me."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Let's go. Later, stranger."

His swinging arm was pulled back.

'_You can keep the jacket_.' A quick peck was tacked onto his cheek before he was pushed away.

As they ran down the stairway, Feliks couldn't help but make a comment.

"So…I guess you don't know whether or not someone double spiked the punch."

"…Shut up."

The blonde merely laughed.

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

"Your Dad is going to kill you."

"Don't remind me. Please."

Cringing, Arthur looked over Elizaveta's ripped up dress. She won the fight with few scrapes, but the toll on her clothes was great. Her heel broke, along with her diamond necklace, and her dress looked like it was a bunch of scratched up rags pinned together, and was beyond repair.

She let out a moan.

"I don't wanna go home!"

"You can stay at my house." Three voices stated.

Elizaveta gasped. "Really Artie? I've never stayed at your house before!"

The teen shrugged. "My mom likes you. And the worst my brothers can do with a girl is tell a few perverse jokes."

"Awesome! I'm staying at Artie's house!"

"So am I."

Everyone on that bus turned to stare at Romano.

"I'm his favorite." The Italian declared. "I should be the first person to sleep at his house."

"Uh-huh."

"Before we go home, I would like to make a request."

Francis cleared his throat, requiring the attention of all. Dramatically, he gestured to Lina, who was glumly looking down on the hideous stain on her dress.

"I don't think Lina here has ever attended one of our parties."

"My gosh, you're right!" Elizaveta exclaimed, wrapping a comforting arm around the freshman's shoulders. "Whatever shall we do?"

"We could always…bombard the Luxia. It's almost eleven right? Our parents don't expect us till one, and the Luxia closes at 12:30. Taking travel time into account, we have exactly one hour at the mall."

"Hmm…Yo! Eli! Does this route take us to the Luxia?"

The bus driver risked a glance back.

"Nah! But I'll take you if you want little lady! I was going back to the garage after dropping you guys off anyway."

Impressed, Arthur held the brunette's gaze.

"You have a lot of helpful friends."

She giggled with a wink.

"Oh, Arthur. You don't know half of my friends."

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

It was true. He didn't know half of her friends. The gatemen at the Luxia were reluctant to let them in, claiming that the last of the shoppers had left long ago. But after their eyes rested on Elizaveta, they welcomed the group in as they would an old friend.

When the night took over, the mall came alive. All the main lights were shut off, leaving them in the glow of the Christmas light, much like how the dance was set up. Youthful employees roamed the mall, their bosses and managers left with the last of the customers.

"Eliza!" A dark skinned girl called from one floor up. Elizaveta grinned and yelled,

"Hey Tatiana!"

"Girl, what happened to your dress?"

"This hoe tried to fight me!"

"Did you win?" A new voice came from a nearby table. It was a hyper girl, with some kind of headband tied around her forehead. She was seated with a blonde man, whose hair resembled the feathers of a bird.

"Yes Yuffie. I won. Hey Cloud."

The man gave a small wave, and then drank his coffee as his friend began to speak enthusiastically.

"_So I said Sora should do it, but Leon was all like 'No, let Roxas do it' then I said-."_

"What's this I hear about fighting?"

"Nothing special Yao."

The man in front of them looked the disgruntled group over. After a moment of stroking his long ponytail, he snapped his fingers.

"You will follow me. Quickly-aru."

And so the group did.

A few minutes later, they were presented with a genuine Chinese food feast.

"I cannot do anything about your dress, but I could hear your stomach rumbling from a mile away."

Yao said, removing his apron. Elizaveta grinned happily into her egg roll.

"Aww, I knew you love me Yao."

The man reddened, turning away with a huff.

"Eat," he said. "And then leave. You should go see Vladimir about that dress. He should be able to make it the way it was before."

"Eh? You know that Vlad hates me!"

"Isn't he that Romanian Senior with the whole vampire thing?" Romano asked, digging into a bowl of pork fried rice.

Elizaveta nodded. "He works up on the fourth floor I think."

"How can you know everything about this place?"

"I practically lived here Artie. Like, the people that work, and worked, in this place are like my family. They've been there for me since my mom died."

Yao jabbed a thumb in her direction, scowling. "You should have seen this brat-aru. She used to run around here, passing messages and jumping into fountains and ruining my statues."

"I'm a grown woman now!"

The man snorted, inclining his chin to a stone dragon without a head or a tail. Elizaveta reddened, murmuring something about accidents, clumsiness, and Zane, before burying her face into Roderich's arm.

The cook shook his head, disappearing into the back room from which he came.

Gradually, fifteen minutes passed in the restaurant. There was little sound, save the munching of rice, snatching of meat, and clatter of boxes. When every belly was full, and the cartons empty, they all sat back in contentment.

"That was good." Matthew commented. Gilbert nodded, using a napkin to wipe a smudge of sauce off the Canadian's cheek.

"How much time do we have?" Antonio asked Francis.

"Around 45 minutes."

"Anyone want to catch the first 45 minutes of Rise of The Guardians?"

"Isn't the theater closing now?"

"Not if Jake Long's the one shutting it down. He'll make us pay for our ticket, but he'll be willing to play the movie for us. We won't get any snacks though."

"That's alright." Lina said. "I'm full anyway."

After a bit of grumbling about getting up, the group finally reached the conclusion that Elizaveta's plan was best. They rose and cleaned up the table to the best of their ability. Up on the door, Elizaveta left an 'I.O.U' notice, scrawling her name below it.

"Sorry, it's not much of a party. We're usually crazier than this." Arthur heard Francis say to Lina. The girl grinned, shaking her head.

"It's fine! I…I've never really hung out with a big group like this anywhere. And we're the only non-employees at the mall too! I think that this is really cool."

Francis smiled. "Well, I'm glad you feel that way."

With a smirk of his own, Arthur looked away.

So…Francis and Lina? That could work. If Vash didn't try and intervene.

But another event was occurring to his left. A situation slightly more dramatic.

"No, mama, I am not coming home…I'm staying at a friend's house…Ask Feli to do it. You hate it when I do it. Feli is better…I'll mess it up so why would I? So you can yell at me?...No, I don't want to talk to…Ciao? Papa?...No, non volgio tornare a casa. No. No. Addio. Addio Papá."

Scowling, Romano ended the call, sending a glare to anyone that looked at him for too long.

_Point 1. Subject shows adversity to those around him when aggravated. _

"Romano," Arthur said softly.

"What?"

"Catch."

A chocolate bar he dug out of his pocket flew through the air, catching the Italian right on the cheek.

"Ow! Bastard! Your aim fucking sucks!"

"Or you can't catch?"

"Or your aim really does suck." The Italian ripped into the chocolate, tearing it to shreds despite not being hungry at all.

_Point 2. Subject enjoys bringing down others, refusing to admit incompetence/ faults aloud._

Hmm. This would need further analysis. He still had too little information to make a conclusion.

Arthur watched Romano closely that evening, hearing his scathing remarks whenever Elizaveta made a comment on how cute Jack Frost was, his loud damning off all doors when he stubbed his foot and the way he seemed to get crankier and crankier as the night went on, up till when they had reached Arthur's house and were preparing to sleep.

Without a single word, Romano took the clothes that Arthur provided for him and marched into the room the teen pointed him to and locked the door. Sharing a look with Elizaveta, he sighed. The girl, taking the clothes he brought for her, hesitated and chose her words carefully.

"You shouldn't blame him. He gets like that whenever his family is involved. That phone call earlier really upset him."

"Why though? I mean, his parents are really nice."

The girl shook her head. "If you look closely, there's favoritism. They prefer Veneciano over Romano, and they're not afraid to show it."

"But-!"

Elizaveta cut him off with a firm statement. "These guys are rich Artie. They'll put on a front to make it seem like nothing's wrong, but behind closed doors everything changes. The only reason they want Romano in a home is so that he doesn't tarnish the family name again."

Arthur's brow furrowed.

"What do you mean by 'again'?"

Her eyes went wide with disbelief. She took a cautious step forward, resting a hand on his cheek.

"Romano…didn't tell you did he? About his days as a Chess piece?"

"You're trying to tell me that my best friend is actually a board game piece come to life? Eliza, I sincerely hope you get better at pranking before April, otherwise Gil is going to kill you in Fool's Day Prank Wars."

He tried to pass her question off as a joke, but the look on her face said otherwise. She removed her comforting palm, biting her knuckles.

"I…Oh, Arthur. I'm not going to say anything. When Romano feels comfortable, he'll tell you his story. But, for now, stay with him okay? He needs the support. He can be a real grouch sometimes, but he's a loyal friend."

Thoroughly confused, Arthur nodded, unsure of any other action he could take. Elizaveta gave him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Good night Artie."

"Good night."

Her door closed behind her, leaving Arthur in the hallway all alone.

Every single time he thought he understood something, a new headache would come up. Besides the whole Romano-fiasco, he had the black-haired guy to worry about.

Actually, did he really have to worry about him? The thought of him seemed more like a comfort than anything else.

But what about Alfred?

Groaning, he shuffled up to the bathroom so he could take a quick shower and then sleep. His thoughts were much too tiring.

But a strong pair a hands lifted him up and threw him over a wide shoulder before he could do anything.

"Damn it Draco! It's 1:00 in the morning! Couldn't you have showered earlier?"

"I waited for you to come home just so I could do this! Isn't that brotherly love?"

"Fuck you!"

Draco dumped his kid brother on his bed, and grinned the biggest shit-eating smirk Arthur had ever seen grace his brother's face.

"I would let you, but…Actually, screw that. I wouldn't let you even if you paid me."

Arthur scowled as Draco pointed and laughed his way out of his room.

Stupid brother.

-S.S.C.O.T.Y-

I love Draco and Artie so much. I drew a picture of them and Gilbert and hung it up in my room. It's almost always next to me when I write this fic.

Once more, thanks for all the reviews, faves, alerts and for simply reading this story! (I read that some reviewers read this with their friends. Like, dudes, this made my week. Legit)

Updates will be every month from henceforth. Unless, you know, my muse goes H.A.M and supplies me with an idea early.

Out of pure curiosity, who do you guys think that Flighter is? If you had to guess randomly. And what issues do you think each of the Sophomore Slumps has? It's so fun to hear your speculations.

Until next time!


	15. 13: Light 'Em Up

The last thing Arthur expected to find on his doorstep two days before the end of Christmas break was Gilbert Beilschmidt, sniffling with eyes redder than usual, standing by two suitcases. The teen looked up at Arthur, lower lip quivering. Swiftly, he wiped his eyes.

"I'm sorry bro-It's just-I-I didn't know where I could-Francis has a sick mom. Antonio has a million and one siblings and is dealing with_ scheidung_. Romano can't sleep in his own house. Elizaveta's house is small and Roderich would kill me if stepped on his lawn. Mattie-Aw, fuck, I've gotta tell Mattie_-Sein Vater_ freakin' _hasst mich _and-and I-._Mein Gott,_ Arthur. I didn't know where else the fuck to go."

The Brit didn't understand a single word past Gil's hysterical crying, but he was pretty damn sure he heard German at one point. Any foreign language other than Italian and French gave him a headache when he struggled to translate, so he gave Gilbert the usual Sophomore Slump greeting ritual and took the teen's suitcases inside before he started talking again.

"Follow me,"

Gilbert nodded, blowing on his fingerless gloves before stuffing them into his jeans.

Ignoring the questioning eyes of his brothers, Arthur quickly passed the living room to reach the guest room hallway.

"You can sleep in here," He grunted, kicking open a door. "I'm sorry that it's not as artistic as your usual room, but I'm sure Mum won't mind if you hang up a poster or two. Oh, and your room is approximately two feet apart from Draco's. If there is any issue, or you hear anything strange at night, don't be a hero. Get up and run. Draco loves pulling pranks on guests. Especially mine."

Gilbert threw his arms around Artie, giving him a fast, chaste kiss.

"_Vielen Dank." _He breathed.

Arthur could at least understand that much.

"_Keine Ursache._" He said after a pause. Gilbert laughed a sorrowful, hollow sound that the blonde hoped never to hear again.

Arthur gently pried him off.

"Go in there and get settled. I'll talk to my mum."

He left before the door closed. He probably wouldn't get answers to any of his questions for a while. Gilbert wasn't the cry in public type. And judging from the wreck he looked like when he first arrived, he needed a lot of time alone to mourn.

Sighing, he entered the kitchen, where Holly was removing a tray from the oven. Brightly, the woman hugged her son as he entered.

"Splendid! I was just about to tell Draco to holler for you! Try this!"

A huge chocolate chip cookie was shoved in his face. Unfazed, he broke off a piece and chewed.

"That's a good batch. But, that's to be expected, since you're the only person in this house that can cook."

"Oh you silly little changeling! Here," She placed a majority of the warm sweets into a platter and covered it with a paper towel.

"Sneak this to Gilbert and do not let your brothers smell it."

The blonde nodded, and then did a double-take.

"How did you-?"

"Yes, Gil may stay. But tell him that the bird he's snuggling in his hoodie has to be in a cage when he's in school. Actually, run down to the basement. I should have a spare cage or two there.

To her son's confused look, Holly laughed and gave him a mischievous wink.

"Your fath-. I mean, a good friend of mine told me. Just because you lost 'The Sight' doesn't mean we all did Artie."

Rather than stay and talk to his senile mother, Arthur did as he was told. After a quick run to the musty basement, he was in front of Gilbert's door with a dusty cage and platter of chocolate chip cookies. Pushing open the door with his nose, he loudly cleared his throat before entering.

Gilbert pulled the blankets over himself, turning away with a loud sniffle.

"Don't worry. I didn't see anything. There are cookies here if you need comfort food. And Mum asked me to get you a cage for your bird."

Cautiously, Arthur looked around, afraid that a huge eagle would jump at him out of nowhere.

Knowing Gil, he probably did own a huge eagle. A carnivorous huge eagle.

He set the cage down and slowly backed out of the room, so as to not provoke anything.

"Ouch! Bugger Artie! Watch where you're going you big jerk!"

"Peter! Leave!"

The middle schooler stuck out his tongue, running inside. He set down a mug of milk next to the cookies, connected his thumb to his nose and wiggled his fingers, flashing a Peter Pan signal. Before Arthur could catch him, he squealed and jumped on top of Gilbert.

"Mmmf!"

"Peter!"

"Hello old chap! Oh, why are you crying?"

"Peter stop it!"

Pouting, the young one took the end of his shirt and wiped the teen's face clean.

"I say sir, even though you look a lot like one of those Twilight vampires, you are rather handsome for your age. Do you wish to hear what my Auntie Holly tells me?"

"Sure." Arthur winced at the gravel in Gil's voice.

"My Auntie Holly says that handsome men are too good for tears. A majority of the time, the matter depressing you is not worth crying for. So buck up good friend, and find the joy you're being deprived of. If all else fails, you still have you to be thankful for. Stay Strong!"

There was a long moment of silence. Gradually, Gilbert turned to Arthur, with a grin as wide as the horizon.

"This little guy should be a politician or something. That's the most motivational thing I've heard since the end of seventh grade."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I hope I die before Pete becomes a politician for any country. Come on. Let's leave Gil alone for a bit Pete."

"But-!"

"Mum's made cookies. You should run before Draco eats them all."

At that, the boy ran out of the room, screaming bloody murder.

"He's crazy."

"I wish I had a younger brother like that."

"We're cousins."

"But you treat him like a brother."

To that Arthur had no reply. The two sat in silence for a minute. Awkwardly, the Brit looked everywhere but at his friend.

"Artie?"

"Hmm?"

"Could you put Gilbird in his cage for me?"

Within Gilbert's outstretched palm was a small tuft of yellow. As he took it, the ball chirped, raising its head to peer at Arthur curiously.

"This is your bird?"

"Mmhmm. He's helped me through a lot."

"Like what?"

"Like-!"

_SLAM!_

"Damn it Gil! I told you! None of that crap till Spring Break! Couldn't you have waited?"

A furious Matthew jumped in, strangling his boyfriend as tears ran down his face.

"Mon dieu! I can't believe you! You-You-You fucking…_God, what the hell are we gonna do?"_

If Matthew Williams was crying, cursing, and getting extremely violent, everyone knew that those within his presence were in danger of losing their lives. Urgently, Arthur coaxed Gilbird into his cage and marched right out the guest room before the Canadian could turn his fury on him.

When he returned to the kitchen, his mother was already started on her next baking project, hands covered in flour.

"So how'd it go? I thought I saw Mattie come in as well."

Arthur shoved Peter, making the boy choke on his milk-soaked cookie.

"I just don't know mum. I just don't know."

"Well, sometimes ignorance is bliss, love," The woman set a platter of cookies before him,

"Knowledge can come later, when it'll be less painful. Since I know you two are going to ask, Gilbert may stay for as long as he likes. But, if he plans on going to college, he'd better be prepared to pay a student loan or get some major scholarships. I'm only paying for half of his college fees."

Arthur chuckled, holding his mother's hand as she stroked his cheek.

"Love you mum."

"Love you too sweet tea."

"Aww, look at ickle, wittle Artie."

Draco strolled in, stealing a cookie off of both Peter and Arthur's plates and making a beeline for the fridge.

"Could you please stop mocking your brother? It's such a shame you're at each other's throats now. You two used to be so close."

It was Draco's turn to choke. Wincing, the red head spit whatever orange juice he was drinking back into the carton. (Arthur made a mental note to remind himself to mark that container.)

"In what world?"

"Before your father passed. It was so cute. Artie used to sit on your lap and watch as you played guitar. Then little Mac would come in and-."

"_AHHH! Heilig __Scheiße! Get it-! NO! Get it away from me! Mein gott Mattie!"_

All eyes turned to face Arthur. Sighing, the boy buried his face in his hands.

"I almost don't want to check."

There was a pregnant pause, and then Draco asked the question on everyone's mind.

"Is he speaking German?"

"Don't be dumb Draco. Vampires only speak Italian, Latin and English.

The blonde left to check up on Gilbert, leaving Draco to hold a crying Peter in a headlock as Holly tried to diffuse the situation.

Gilbert's door was already partially open when he arrived. Un-amused, he pushed it the rest of the way, fearful of what he would find.

"Gil, I do hope that you are decent."

"Artie! Artie! Oh, thank god! Artie's here! Get these things out!"

Arthur looked around, searching for an unusual spot of color in the white room. When he caught sight of an orange yellow blur of motion, he grinned.

"Aww Taikos and Valor are playing! You two know better than to get into the guest room! I bet you were after Gilbird! Good job! You're natural instincts are kicking in just fine." 

"Good job?" Gil was hysterical. He was wrapped further into his blankets, shoving himself onto the opposing wall and clutching Matthew's arm.

"They tried to kill my bird!"

"Gil, please. I'm trying to be an encouraging parent." The albino made a sound of disdain as Arthur crooned softly to the two cubs.

If they were truly going after Gilbird, then it was much too dangerous to pick them up. With Valor, he could take a chance, but Taikos would bite him for sure. Instead, he slowly levered the cage off the ground, murmuring softly to them all the while.

"Be calm. Don't spring. This one is small. It won't fill you at all."

Valor snarled, pawing at the cage.

They were agitated already. Violent due to hunger. The best method of action would be to get them out of the guest room, before they hurt anyone. He tip-toed backwards, keeping his eyes on the wildcats all the while. They followed him, eyes glued to Gilbird. After assuring his friend that he would bring the chick back alive, he lured the wildcats into the living room.

"Jon, get me their cages. Mac, get me raw meat from the outside freezer."

The two sprang into action, moving as slowly as Arthur did and not turning their backs to the cats. As calm as could be, Arthur sat on his father's armchair, breathing in the scent of leather and faint _Old Spice_ cologne. Crossing his legs underneath him, he waved the cage above the two animals for a minute or so.

Jon returned first.

"Set them up over here. Not too close though."

Just as the brunet finished, Mac returned, two raw steaks dripping blood in his gloved hands. This drew the wildcats' attention immediately. They turned to Mac, padding forward slowly. He placed the meat inside the cages, and both he and Jon backed up, allowing the wildcats to jump into the cage and devour to their hearts content. Once they were inside, the teens locked them in confinement. Seeing Valor's amber eyes stare back at him with a streak of red across his cheek, Arthur couldn't help but feel sorrow.

"Mum!"

"Yes sweet tea?"

The teen sighed, keeping eye-contact with his first dangerous companion.

"It's really time for Valor and Taikos to go."

"Alright! I'll call the foundation first thing in the morning!"

Things would surely change when Valor left. The house would be quiet, less active.

But, then again, he should've been used to change by then. Valor leaving would be considered a minor alteration when compared to the huge life-changer about to engulf them all.

~Stay Strong~

"Explain yourself."

They sat on opposite ends of the room, both cross-legged and staring into the other's eyes apathetically.

For a moment, it was as if Arthur did not make his demand. The room was silent aside from Gilbird's incessant chirping. Something in Gilbert's eyes flashed, and Arthur saw that. The slight flinch. The way his mouth turned thin. The faint crinkles that appeared by his eyebrows.

"Never mind. Pretend I didn't say anything. Good night Gilbert."

The Brit rose and stretched, cracking a few of his joints. He scratched his bare back and wiggled his _Adidas_ slippers back onto his socked feet.

"Wait."

He didn't need to be told twice. Calmly, he sunk back onto his chair, removing his shoes once again.

Gilbert bit his lip, swiping his eyes before he leaned onto his new bed.

"So, I got disowned today."

"That's not funny Gil."

But the look on the teen's held no mirth. He frowned at Arthur as he waited for the reality to sink in. A sharp gust escaped the Brit's mouth as he let out a breath he had held in. Running a hand through his hair, he looked around the floor as if to find an answer.

"Fuck-Why? You didn't do anything wrong!"

"They found out about the fight at school and then…"

A pregnant pause.

"We just started arguing Artie. We were all just screaming and shit and then they brought up Mattie and I fucking lost it. So I got pissed off and they got pissed off and my Dad just shoved me out…_Fuck_. Dude, I'm sorry to impose on you guys like this but I seriously had nowhere else to go. Francis's mom is sick so he has his hands full taking care of her. Antonio's siblings are like an army. They did-."

Arthur held up a hand.

"Save it Gil. It's not like I would want to reject you. Hell isn't that against the Sophomore Slump rules or…something."

Gil managed to crack a small grin.

"Yeah. Yeah it is. Thanks Arthur."

"Does someone need a hug?"

The question brought out a full laugh from the teen as he threw a pillow at the blonde.

Arthur, quick to retaliate, tossed the item back and jumped to get more ammo before Gil could recover.

A full out pillow fight erupted from the chaos, bringing up moods and burying pain deep. Arthur had a feeling that there was something missing from Gil's story, but he didn't press for answers Gil wasn't ready to give.

He had a new brother. That was all that mattered.

~Stay Strong~

"So, you two are staying in the same house?"

Arthur took a forkful of Romano's pasta and gave Francis both his cookies.

"Yeah," he said to answer Antonio's question.

The Spaniard looked at Gilbert, who shrugged and continued to work with his PSP.

'_Show me the true power of SOLDIER!'_

"You know, I've never stayed at your house before." Romano commented stiffly. The Brit shrugged it off.

"You can come anytime you like. Mum wouldn't really mind."

"So how is it, living with this idiot?"

"I resent that nickname cow-tits."

As Elizaveta proceeded to smack Gilbert around, Arthur thought back to the days that had passed.

Contrary to their beliefs, it wasn't terrible. It was actually a hell of a lot of fun, like having a twin brother to fool around with. Between making pillow forts and tutoring each other with troublesome subjects, they had a really productive, epic winter break. Something Arthur didn't really expect since-well-it was _Gilbert_.

"Living with Gil is…pretty bloody awesome."

The albino, now sporting a bloody nose, stopped yanking on Elizaveta's hair to beam at the Brit.

"Arthur! We are fucking brothers you hear me? Brothers!"

"Hell yes! Fucking ace brothers!"

"The Awesome Beiland duo!"

"Simply brill bros!"

The two housemates fist-bumped, sharing the same grin as those around them laughed.

"…Fuck this. I'm gonna go sit with Lina and Vash. Don't wait up for me bastards."

Slightly confused, green eyes followed the Italian as he abruptly got up. Gilbert's hair soon obscured his vision, preventing him from speaking about the matter immediately. He would talk to Romano later.

"Group hug!" The albino yelled. This got the freshman to whirl back around. (He still wouldn't look at Arthur in the eyes, which was worrisome.)

Gilbert rushes in to intercept Elizaveta's and Arthur's hug, dragging Matthew with him. Francis, not liking the thought of his baby cousin and Gil standing so close, shoves Antonio in between the two. Romano gets between Gil and the Spaniard for reasons he refuses to admit aloud and Francis joins the hug for a chance to grab Arthur's waist. Roderich sneaks in to hug Elizaveta, ignoring Gil's smirk and loud "Yea boy! Get some!"

They all form a big, tangled group hug that draws attention from all corners of the lunchroom. Arthur is only faintly aware of Feliks, and Toris joining in with hordes of others. Only one of his eyes can see Alfred with Tino at the jock table. The two are seriously discussing something, before Tino makes a remark, causing Alfred to laugh. Arthur smiles at the sight of the chuckling blonde.

_'I can't have you, but I can at least allow you your happiness.'_

Alfred F. Jones was depressed. Why? Because his friend just dumped him for some bat-shit crazy German and a perverted French bastard. Shoulders slumping, he glared at the threesome. Gilbert Beilschmidt and Francis Bonnefoy were right next to Arthur Kirkland, his (Is it former now?) best friend. He and Arthur had practically been brothers since they were in preschool. He spent much more time at the Kirkland's than he did at his own home. (Their pets were much more interesting after all.) He knew all about British logo. Arthur had been drilling into his head for the past 15 years of his life. (He admits that he occasionally pretends to forget just to be able to sit with Arthur for another 45 minutes.) They knew each other so well. Until their Sophomore year. This is when everything begins to change.

Alfred's main problem started over the summer. He had spent most of his summer months at the Kirkland summer house, enjoying life with best-est friend in the entire world. It was when he caught sight of Arthur asleep in the forest that the cramps began to start.

The blonde was sprawled before a little pond, a book brushing the tips of his fingers. Peter Pan by J.M Barrie, if you simply must know. Alfred's stomach began to perform somersaults when he saw the faint pink on the other's lips and cheeks. He looked so...serene and kind of...pretty? No, dash that. He was only Arthur.

Well, he used to think that he was only Arthur. Over the summer, the somersaults turned into back flips. And the back flips morphed into handstands until his stomach was full of an entire circus of performers. Of course, this phenomenon only occurs when Arthur's around.

It took both Vash and Feliks to convince him that he had a crush. And whenever Vash admitted such facts, the matter was serious. Soon, his entire circle of friends but Arthur knew about his little attraction. Suggestive comments were made every single minute of the day. Alfred was only thankful for the fact that Arthur was too oblivious to realize the hidden meaning behind the words.

He refused to act on the emotions, much to his friend's chagrin. He didn't want to wreck his most treasured friendship. It was only when Tino slapped him and gave him a well-thought out plan did Alfred finally agreed to pursuing the Brit.

The original plan was to manipulate Arthur's emotions. Alfred and Tino would pretend to date so that Arthur would get jealous and attempt to capture Alfred. It was a dirty plan, but it seemed to be effective at first. Arthur would get a bit testy whenever Tino was mentioned. The way he blushed and scowled at that one soccer game made Alfred grin.

But, in the end, Arthur was driven away.

"How do you feel?" Tino asked as Alfred sat at their lunch table.

"Terrible." Soothingly, the Finnish boy rubbed circles in his friend's back.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I think we scared him away instead of pull him closer."

"Oh, that's not good. We'll have to rope him back in then. We-. Where are you two going?"

Feliks turned to Tino with a wicked grin, Toris sheepishly smiling behind him.

"There's, like, a group hug thing over at Lizzy's table! We're going to jump into that. Come on Tori!"

Alfred, Vash and Tino gave the two an odd look. The blonde jock let his eyes shift over to where Arthur was getting smothered by Gilbert and Elizaveta, and then made his gaze drop.

"I used to be able to hug him out of nowhere.

"You used to. Now you can't."

"Thanks Vash. I feel so much better."

"Yo man. Haters gotta hate. It's all part of the game."

Disbelieving, Alfred looks up at Tino.

"Are you trying to be gangster?"

Tino wore his sunglasses then struck a pose, downward V-signs out in front of him.

"Homeboy, please. I ain't gotta try. I am. Come at me bro!"

Alfred and Vash were speechless for a moment, before the jock burst out laughing. Red-faced, Vash excused himself before he was seen doing something as unsightly as laughing.

"Oh Tino. You make me laugh so hard."

"On a serious note, we'll have to do something about Artie. We'll have to catch his attention."

"How do we do that?" Alfred's spirit was brighter. Laughter always managed to perk the boy up. Tino pointed at the green haired Brit.

"He's into a new style. Judging by his hair, he's either a scene kid or a punk rocker. We'll have to make you one of those to get him back. And-"

He turned to Alfred, an expression of contrite painting his face.

"I-I'm sorry Al but I need to tell you something."

"No Tino, please. I can change."

"No! Don't speak! It must be done. Alfred, we must part! It's not me! It's you! You've been looking at other men! I cannot take it anymore!"

"I can change my ways! I won't go to anymore cabarets! I swear-."

"What _the hell_ is wrong with you two?"

Sadiq appeared, looking all too weirded out by their performance. Alfred grinned and tossed the Turk his milk.

"We felt the need to end our relationship dramatically. You know how we Americans are. We must end things with a big crash. Like some dramatic episode of Degrassi."

"Don't tell me you're going to shoot all of us." Sadiq said lowly, finished with the chocolate fluid.

"Nah. I don't shoot. I only aim and fire."

"That's the same never mind."

Feliks, returning from the hug session, entered the conversation, a scowl playing at his features.

"So, like, if you two break up, how's Al going to get Arthur?"

"We're giving him a makeover. We need to know whether or not Arthur's interested in scene kids or punk guys first though."

"Oh that's easy. Punk all the way."

All attention turns to Feliks.

"How do you know?"

The teen responded through sticks of Polski, sending bits flying.

"I…I know Elizaveta really well. Yeah, let's go with that. I know her so well that…I know that she would never let someone wear scene kid attire. She would never risk getting someone beaten up. Our school doesn't respond to scene kids well. It's, like, a shame too. I would have loved to see Arthur and Alfred in raccoon tails. It'd be, like, hilarious."

The blonde finished in a rush, looking everywhere but at the teens in front of him.

For his own sake, Alfred doesn't question what the Polish teen means by 'raccoon tails' and sketches up a new battle plan with Tino. By the end of the lunch period, they have more than a faint idea about what they're going to do.

"So we'll make our break up public in two weeks. Then you'll actively pursue him and I can hang out with Berwald again. I'll get Norge and Jesper to put in a good word for you too. Seeing as how Arthur's with that kind of crowd now, I'm sure he'll take some advice from them."

Alfred hugged Tino, giving him a firm pat on the back.

"Thanks dude."

"No problem Al. Anything for my favorite cousin...Eww,"

"What?"

Tino wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"I just dated my cousin."

"It was pretend."

"It was still dating. Ugh, I probably have your germs all over me. I have to find Berwald. Maybe he knows how to get the Alfredness off my clothes."

"I'm sure he'll get more than my germs off you."

Alfred wiggled his eyebrows suggestively while Tino turned a deep red.

"I-I'm leaving."

As the Finnish boy sped away, Alfred looks back at Arthur. The Brit was now laughing and eating some of Matthew's rolled up pancakes. He let the corners of his own mouth curl up as Arthur smiled at Roderich.

No matter what, Alfred was going to win Arthur back. No matter how many secret plans he had to go through.

~S.S.C.O.T.Y~

A bit complicated huh? I'll try and break this down for you guys.

**On the Sophomore Slump Warfront**: Arthur is no longer actively pursuing Al as he had been before. He's come to terms with his feelings for Al, but his friends are more important that a relationship right now, especially with Gilbert's new status. Elizaveta's in some shady dealings with some Flighter guy.

**With the Monarchy: **Alfred and Tino only pretended to date to make Arthur jealous. Seeing as how it wasn't working, they just broke it off this chapter. Not all of the Monarchy knows that Alfred and Tino are cousins. It's really only Sadiq, Toris, Feliks, Vash and the two in question. Everyone else is oblivious. Feliks is currently serving as a double agent. He knows everything that's going on, but will not interfere unless absolutely necessary for the ending he desires.

**In General:** Everyone's trying to trick each other because they think that they're oh-so smart and that their lives should be like fricken Degrassi or Gossip Girl. High School guys. Isn't it fun?

Next Chapter: The Slumps go to Sector 3, a beloved hangout spot for teenagers with an indie/bohemian vibe. There, Arthur meets Flighter and a new complicated relationship if formed. The Slumps also find out that there's more to Gilbert below his happy exterior.


	16. 14:Sugar, We're Going Down

Chapter 15: Sugar, We're Going Down

If you asked Arthur Kirkland how he ended up in the pouring rain, making out with some boy named Flighter. He wouldn't be quite sure how to tell you. After all, a lot of crazy things happened that day. It was a whirlwind of action.

But, I suppose, he would start by informing you about the riot.

~S.S.C.O.T.Y~

2:00. 10 minutes until that bell would ring and they would all go home, get changed and go out party. Arthur (the little nerd) was actively participating in his English class.

So we'll have to take a new perspective. The perspective of the teenager at the heart of what will occur next.

Norge Paolini

The Norwegian Braniac

And, in this case, a senior at Hetlia High. An 18 year old who endured four years of abuse at the hands of the social hierarchy.

So, he decided it was time to get a little payback.

Early senior pranks were the unexpected ones.

It was relatively simple. Stir up some trouble surrounding The Monarchy and watch as chaos ensued.

He didn't expect it to escalate so quickly.

What started out as a loud gasp and a shout of _"Alfred broke up with Tino for Arthur Kirkland? But isn't Arthur dating Romano Vargas?"_

Quickly grew into _"Heck yes! There's a fight in the courtyard! Bad Touch Trio against Patriarchs!"_

And the entire student body population gathered in the courtyard watching what was proclaimed to be 'the brawl of the year'.

Norge watched from the sidelines, next to a fellow Senior who was already placing his bets. It was getting warm out, so he made sure he remained under the shade, looking inconspicuous.

Security guards battled to find their way to the actual fight, but the crowd was too large. From his elevated spot on the front steps, however, he could witness everything.

It was the Bad Touch Trio. Antonio, Francis and Gilbert were already covered in scratches from their opponents.

The _almighty Patriarchs._

_Top three males in the school._

Sadiq Adnan.

Ivan Braiginski.

Alfred F. Jones.

He stood there, watching these young boys beating each other up with an odd sense of satisfaction.

The Bad Touch Trio was winning.

They were beating The Monarchy's boys.

And, in some twisted way, it was because of him that they got such a chance.

He would've stood there, grinning to himself, if he were the smiling type of person.

But, alas, he was not. So Norge Paolini simply stood, watched, and waited for it all to end with a glowing sense of pride deep in his gut.

"_I swear to God almighty Michelle Seya. If you do not get out of my way, I will rip that weave out from your head and stuff it down your throat."_

He heard her before he actually witnessed her bursting into the fray.

But Elizaveta Hedervary was burning with rage when he caught sight.

The long brown spider strings of hair were frazzled, on-end, gathered around her head like snakes. Green eyes narrowed into a glare; her entire facial features were scrunched into that of a demonic cat.

_Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned._

He couldn't help but think of this phrase as she ran into the middle of the battle, whacking people with frying pans (Was she in Home Economics?) on their buttocks simply as a warning.

Gilbert Beilschmidt, it seemed, knew the threat of the pan all too well. Crimson eyes wide and a high-pitched scream escaping his lips, he just got up, turned and ran, leaping over obstacles as he did so.

This caused Francis to pause, and Antonio as a result.

When the two looked up to find Elizaveta looming above them, they too made their getaway, leaving the girl to fend for herself with the Monarchy boys.

Which, if you asked anyone brave enough to tell the truth later, she did quite well.

The Bad Touch Trio and The Patriachs were two fearsome groups. But neither was as frightening as an angry Elizaveta Hedervary when she was prepared for a fight.

What Norge Paolini did not expect was for his actions to affect Arthur Kirkland.

~S.S.C.O.T.Y~

"How did you manage to get into another fight?"

A chorus of 'I don't know!'s traveled around the bus.

"Maybe we shouldn't go to Sector 3." Matthew said worriedly.

"No! We need to go now more than anytime else. So we can…relieve the stress." said Arthur. He'd been looking forward to the trip. A riot wasn't about to stop him now. . Green eyes narrowed, scrutinizing every displeased face. Finally, they came to rest on a pale, finely chiseled features.

"Gilbert, I heard that you were the first one there. What happened?"

His friend glared out the window. His red eyes made a frightening expression, but Arthur didn't falter. Steadily, he stared him down until the albino met his eyes. Rage gradually grew weaker and fell to reservation.

"Someone said something rude about you."

"Still don't see how this can cause a huge fight."

With the memory, Gilbert's eyes once again lit up and his mouth formed a line. He turned back to the window, and drew out of the conversation for the rest of the bus ride.

"Well, I don't blame him. Gilbert's never liked Ivan, and seeing as how he called you a whore-?"

"_Ivan Braiginski_ used the term _whore?"_

Sheepishly, Francis grinned. "Well, he may not have used that specific word."

"But that's what he was implying!" Romano exclaimed, jumping up.

"Watch it. All of you crazy kids. This bus is not a playground."

At this statement from the front, the entire group fell silent.

At least they were on their way to a party. Tension was pretty high now, but by the time they loosened up at Sector 3, they would be alright.

Plus, there was supposed to be live performances from some local bands. At the thought going to his first (sort of) concert, Arthur couldn't help but burn with excitement.

He had this feeling in his gut. That twinge you get whenever you know that something will occur, but you're unsure whether or not it'll be good. He was leaning towards the brighter side.

Looking around at his somber friends, he could only hope that they would feel the way he did by the time the night was over.

~S.S.C.O.T.Y~

It was already lively by the time they arrived. The room was hot due to the amount of people it contained, and the energetic dances they were performing to match the heavy beat of the drums.

'_It's not easy making a name for yourself!_

_Where do you draw the line?'_

A Day To Remember. The band was covering A Day To Remember, and they weren't bad at all. The vocalist was trying a bit too hard with the screaming, but when he actually sang it came out smoothly.

Taking a seat in a torn up couch, he crossed his legs and pointedly looked away from the couple making out next to him, critically analyzing the band on stage. Quickly, he got so wrapped up in his task that he didn't notice his friends scatter.

When the set was finished, he looked about bewilderedly. They promised to stay within eyesight. The warehouse they were in was too huge and packed. If they got separated than that was it.

Swearing, he jumped up, knocking the legs of the girl he sat by. Ignoring the couple's rants, he frantically ran into the crowd.

And managed to run right into a bare shoulder.

Blood dripped from his nose onto his hand as he apologized profusely to the man he hit.

"Christ! I'm so sorry! I didn't see where I was going! I…Oh, it's you."

He looked straight up into lovely blue eyes, framed by a large pair of hipster glasses.

Flighter. That's the name that Elizaveta later gave him right? He looked…casual. A loose fitting dark tank top hung off his torso, showing off his arms.

Arms that Arthur would never have. Even if he spent years in the gym with Antonio.

His jeans were accompanied by a beaten up pair of Chuck Taylors. He wasn't trying to impress anyone. He was attractive without even trying. (Arthur couldn't help but feel a bit envious.)

A gloved hand slicked his black hair back as he tilted his head to carefully examine the Brit.

His mouth moved, but Arthur couldn't quite hear what he said. He pointed to his ear to indicate this. Fighter rolled his eyes, grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him through the crowd.

An electric sense of warmth streamed through his arm, making blood rush through his head.

'_It's way too hot in here.'_ He thought, pulling up his shirt to hold to his nose.

Eventually, they escaped the warehouse completely, escaping into the lit up city streets.

Panting, the taller turned to face him.

"Sorry about that Arthur. I didn't mean to hit your nose."

"It's alright…How do you know my name?"

The teen smirked.

"You're friend shouted it out at Winter Formal."

Ah yes. That's right. Feliks had screamed for him to get Elizaveta. How could he forget such a detail? Scowling, he reddened.

Why was he so flustered? That was unusual. Was he sick or something?

"-re. Here. Arthur!"

His head darted up to find a handkerchief being held out to him.

"F.J." He stated, reading the initials on the object.

"My initials."

"What's your last name?"

"Oh? Stalker much?"

"You're the one that I find everywhere I go."

He smirked. "Well, my first name is Flighter."

"I know."

"Heh. Not a stalker huh?"

Arthur glared, earning a small laugh from his company.

"The stars aren't out today."

Green eyes looked up and Arthur acknowledged this fact. The city lights blocked them all out. Sighing, Flighter leaned back, against the wall. They could still hear the shrill guitars from the inside, but it wasn't so loud that they had to scream to speak.

"Tell me about yourself Arthur. What's been going on with you lately?"

The punk hesitated, debating the pros and cons of such an act.

_Then he tried something new. Something that the Slumps taught him. He let go of control for a moment, and let it all loose._

"Bloody hell. I don't even know where to start."

"Start from the beginning."

And he did. He brought up his whole story. Every little insecurity. Every single emotion. Every little triumph and failure.

A half hour later, when it was done, and he had finished. It was raining like crazy and they were soaked. But he felt light, as if he were walking on air.

Blue eyes stared at him as if he were the most precious thing on earth.

"_You're so damn cute."_

Then he was pulled in.

~S.S.C.O.T.Y~

What Romano Vargas did not expect to find, when he went out into the pouring rain to search for his best friend was to find him in the middle of a rather intimate pose with some stranger.

Exploring hands.

Closed eyes.

Red cheeks.

Mussed hair.

Locked lips.

To be quite honest, it made him want to throw up.

"Get a fucking room! Bastards!"

They jumped apart, and he darted back into the Sector 3 warehouse before he could be seen.

~S.S.C.O.T.Y~

They broke apart.

Breathing heavily, they held a hand to their lips.

What had he done? What the hell did he just do?

A deep scarlet, Arthur looked up to the one that initiated the act.

Was that…black rain dripping down his face?

Cautiously, Arthur reached up, fingers running through his hair.

"You're…blonde?"

Flighter's eyes went wide. Mumbling something under his breath, he flipped Arthur's hand away, turned and ran.

Leaving Arthur to stand in the rain, confused and cold.

Then the Brit sat on the cement, thinking the situation over.

For a total of 15 minutes he sat there contemplating. By the end, he stood up.

_He was pissed off._

There was only one person who would know exactly what was going on with Flighter. Only one person who would know everywhere Arthur would be going. One person who could get deals on fake hair dye.

"_Elizaveta Herdervary. I'm gonna kill you."_


	17. 15: Nobody Puts Baby In The Corner

Chapter 15: Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner

The silence in the air was filled with unspoken statements. The tension in the air couldn't even be cut with a knife. Despite the low temperatures, beads of sweat ran down red cheeks from an overwhelming nervousness.

Emerald eyes glistening with questions met jade irises from opposite ends of the room. Eventually the connection snapped and both parties stared at the ground.

Brushing brown bangs away from her forehead, Elizaveta Herdervary made an attempt to swallow, and then winced. Her throat was dry. The act was made uncomfortable.

Arthur cleared his throat as Eliza mussed with the sheets on his bed. The girl's gaze flickered up to the teenager.

"_So," _She looked back down at the carpets. "What did you want to talk about?"

_As if she didn't already know._

"I think I know everyone's issues."

"Oh?"

It wasn't what was supposed to be discussed and they both knew it. There was a greater issue at hand.

"Francis is bipolar. You and Roderich suffer from depression, or at least used to suffer. Romano probably has an inferiority complex. That becomes obvious when you get close to him. Gilbert is never going to get along with his parents, and probably feels neglected, making him cling to his friends. Antonio must have been a thug at one point. I mean he's too good of a fighter, and to eager to get into one. Those three used to get into a lot of brawls…"

The silence came again, enveloping them until Elizaveta murmured,

"You forgot two people."

"Yes. I can't figure Matthew out at all. I used to think maybe it was social anxiety but it's not that he can't talk to people. People just don't notice him. And I haven't know Lina for that long."

"Lina's not a Sophomore Slump. I was referring to you Arthur."

Eye contact was once again accomplished. Confusion streaked across the Brit's features. His eyebrows contorted as his nose scrunched up.

"How am I supposed to figure out my issue when I barely know myself?"

"Barely know yourself? Please, compare how you are now to how you were during freshman year. I think you know a lot more now than you once did."

"A lot more about me…but with that information came so many more questions!"

"Eventually, you'll be able to answer them," Elizaveta assured.

"No I can't. Some of these questions aren't just about me, and only you can answer them."

Realization dawned on her face, accompanied by a tinge of fear. The springs in the mattress creaked as the girl slowly straightened. Her eyes widened, dancing around the room in a great haste. Feigning unawareness, Arthur came down in a crouch before her.

"I saw Flighter today and the oddest thing happened. We stood under the rain for a little while and his hair it…it started turning blonde. The black came out like it was-I don't know, maybe something like _cheap hair dye._"

The girl was silent, burying her face in her hands.

"Which led me to believe that Flighter is actually a blue eyed blonde that goes to our school, unless someone smuggled him into Winter Formal. I also doubt that Flighter is his real name. No parent from around her would name their child Flighter."

"You know you and Gil never got that tattoo done. We should-."

"I decided not to. Not gonna get a permanent tattoo done just so I can fit in under some stereotype. I think that's foolish. That's one of the things I found out about myself," Arthur deadpanned. Narrowing his eyes, he continued on to say, "Don't switch the subject Eliza. This is serious."

The long exhale of breath was full of frustration. Rubbing her eyes, she could only say,

"The situation is so complicated. Everything's happening so fast. Too fast. Oh, this is the worst time for Francis's cycle to act up. He won't think straight and things are going awry. Ugh…"

Small sniffles soon followed, leading to soothing back rubs and hair petting.

"Arthur, the Slumps all love you. No matter what some of us may do, we're always doing it so that we're always friends. Always for the sake of our friendship. You need to remember that. No matter how this plays out."

"So you and Francis know about Flighter."

She shook her head.

"Francis might. I'm not sure. But he seems to know everything so…Artie, the amount of misunderstandings are way too high but for this to work out the way we need it to, they're gonna have to build up."

"Why?"

"_We don't want to lose you."_

A firm hug was shared between two fiercely protective friends and warmth was brought back into the icy atmosphere. Elizaveta was the first to draw back, picking up her bag.

"I've gotta go Artie. See you at school."

And she slipped out, quiet as the night.

"A conspiracy surrounds me," Arthur muttered, tossing himself onto his bed. A frustrated growl escaped him as challenging thoughts swirled in his head.

The statement was true, in a way. Without realizing it, he somehow made his way into the center of plans, surrounded by a hurricane of events. He was a crucial piece in the game of chess between the Monarchy and the Slumps, and yet he didn't even know what he was supposed to be doing.

"Now, old sport, what will you do?"

He could recite the question aloud all he wanted, but the answer still would not come to him easily. There were so many things he could do, yet they wouldn't be what he wanted to do.

The only thing he was sure of was that he wanted to find out Flighter's true identity. But that would require the assistance of someone that didn't seem to want him to know.

"Oh, university. You need to come a lot faster."

High school was turning into the social monster everything claimed it was, and Arthur certainly did not like the way it was threatening to eat him whole.

~S.S.C.O.T.Y~

"You wanted to talk to me?"

The crunching of snow came to pause. Matthew Williams curiously stared down at his friend. Arthur downed the rest of his tea, then patted the spot beside him on the park bench.

"Yeah. I just have a few questions."

"Go ahead. I only hope I can help you out." The Canadian laughed softly. The action immediately put Arthur at ease. Matthew had a habit of doing that. He was the most tranquil of the group most of the time.

"I've been able to figure out everyone's issues but yours and my own. I thought maybe it was a split personality disorder or anger management issues but-."

"Incorrect. Mine isn't major like Elizaveta's or Francis's. It's not that serious."

"Social anxiety?"

The taller considered this option for a bit. "Not exactly. Close though. I'm not socially anxious but-."

"Socially inept."

"Yes. I can be around people but people can't be around me."

Arthur nodded.

Of course, this condition didn't apply to the Slumps. They could freely interact with Matthew. They were probably helping him get over his awkwardness. That was all of the Slumps down, except for one.

"I suppose my condition isn't major either."

"Nope. All of us pretty much picked up on it. Would you like a hint?"

"Yes please."

Matthew grinned, standing up and brushing fallen snow off his shoulders.

"It has to do with your relationships."

…What?

"I have hockey practice so I need to go. Sorry to cut the conversation short."

Arthur waved the apology off, straining a smile all the while.

"It's fine. Go ahead."

He had issues with his relationships? That couldn't be right. His relationships were perfectly fine-.

_Wait._

Okay, so maybe he had a few arguments with Francis, and made Elizaveta cry. There was that one time Romano got pissed off too but-pfft-Romano was a fucking little bitch about the little things so that didn't count right?)

Rubbing his temple, Arthur let out a long sigh.

He would need further consultation.

~S.S.C.O.T.Y~

"Do you guys think I have relationship issues?"

"Hell yes!"

"Yer' a freak Arthur. Can't trust anyone but yer' mother."

"Remember that one time I messed up your room? You didn't even trust me to put your Harry Potter collection in the right order!"

" 'Nd ya can't let Jon fold ya' clothes either."

"Thanks guys. You're all so supportive."

At least he could trust his brothers to be frank with him.

~S.S.C.O.T.Y~

The moment he stepped into the kitchen, he was enveloped in warmth. A wonderful sensation that accompanied the scent of baked goods shook his core, bringing him both excitement and expectation.

Before a single word was uttered, a cup of tea was set before him. Soon after came a plate of chocolate laced croissants and a slice of apple pie. Steam still rose from each item, showing how fresh each was.

"You came at the right time," Holly Kirkland said with a wink. "The tea pot just began to whistle when you came in, and these came straight out of the oven."

"I didn't know you knew how to make croissants." Arthur remarked, taking a bite into the pastry.

It was sweet. Due to the temperature of the bread, the chocolate had softened. Not to the point where it would be a thin liquid but closer to a sauce type of substance.

"What's on your oh sweet child of mine?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Guns N' Roses Mum. Really?"

"One of your father's favorite bands."

Arthur couldn't help but allow a small grin at the onslaught of memories.

Yes, Guns N' Roses was a major name thrown around the Kirkland household years ago. Wake up at nine to Led Zeppelin's _'Custard Pie' _fall asleep at nine to _'Sweet Child of Mine'_. It was how his father lived day to day, with a bit of Mötley Crüe in between.

Yes, his house was always filled with music when his father was around. CD after CD was played in the old radio in the living room. When his Dad died, he never trusted anyone to even touch that ancient thing. Not even Alfred. It was-. _Oh._

"Mum, my friends think I have trust issues. Is that true?"

"Yes sweetie. You're a control freak. It's like a dictatorship with you. But, you know to trust your friends so I suppose they're helping you get over it."

That was it. That's the confirmation he needed.

"Do you know when it started?"

A long, pregnant pause. Eyes met, and cups of tea gradually grew cold. Averting her gaze, Holly cleared her throat and gave her son a gentle smile.

"I think you know when it started. I don't have to tell you that. But, it got worse when Alfred stopped coming around. You just…grew distant. But when Francis and Gilbert-."

"I heard my awesome name! What's up-? PIE! OH SWEET JESUS! Ja! Ja! Ja!"

Gilbert jumped into the nearest available seat as Holly made him a plate. As he ate, Arthur looked on in disgust.

"You eat like a wild animal. Eat your pie like a human being eats food. The pie is not your prey.

"_Sie sind das essen und wir sind die Jäger."_ Gilbert said past the food in his mouth. Arthur flinched, then shook his head.

"Alright Eren Jaeger. Eat like a pig."

Gilbert swallowed, shooting his friend a grin.

"Yes Sir Mr. Corporal Levi sir."

"Why am I-?"

"Cause you're a clean freak. Thanks for the food Mummy. I love you."

"Aww. You're welcome sweetie."

Gilbert stood to give Holly a tight embrace, ignoring Arthur's vulgar hand motions.

"He is such a kind-hearted sweet tart." The woman stated when the teen departed. The blond snorted disbelievingly.

"You obviously don't see him on school grounds."

"He's dating Matthew from across the street right? He can't be that bad. They are so adorable together."

Instead of questioning how his mother knew this information, he remained silent, sipping at his tea.

"You know," Holly gave him a sidelong glance, smirk on her face. "You and Alfred would be pretty cute together too."

And that was how Arthur ended up spluttering, shooting tea through his nose onto the kitchen table.

~S.S.C.O.T.Y~

"And that was when she said that we would be cute together! We're practically grown ass men! We are not cute."

"No. You and Alfred would not be cute at all mon ami."

Arthur scowled, glaring across the cafeteria to The Monarchy table in question. For some reason, that sentence didn't sit well with him either. Elizaveta, also leering at The Monarchy table, gave a side comment,

"Nah. Alfred and Arthur is not cute. It's freakin' sexy. Like who wouldn't love to watch two blondes going at it?"

Francis and Elizaveta quickly shared a hi-five behind Arthur's back while he turned a dark, dark red.

The fact that the sentence made him feel better didn't help at all.

'_Still,'_ he thought as he scanned the opposite table. '_We're speaking so care freely about him and yet he's not even here.'_

Alfred appeared to be absent. But for what reason? Lord knows the teenager never got sick. (Idiots couldn't catch colds after all.) If there was some family emergency, Holly would've been one of the first outside of the family to find out. (She was frequently asked to send one of her sons to house watch for the Jones'.)

Maybe he was playing hooky?

A tap on his shoulder brought Arthur back to the present. Surprised, he turned to look up a tired blue eyes.

_Or maybe he was simply out of sight._

"We need to talk."

Alfred F. Jones didn't bother to spare him a grin.

Arthur grew concerned as he looked over the athlete's features. Tired bags under dim blue eyes, disgruntled blonde hair and…he was in sweats?

He never, ever went to school in sweats. He always said his reputation would be ruined if he did something like that.

Something was terribly wrong.

"Why do ya' wanna talk to him alone bastardo? Say what cha' need to say-."

Arthur pressed a hand to Romano's chest, silently willing the Italian to back down.

"I'll be back Roma. You can have my chocolate chip cookie."

Everyone but one looked at the two blondes as they exited the lunchroom. The entire lunch room quieted, then erupted into chaos as the doors shut. Speculations and rumors spread like lightning through the entire school by texting, phone calls, and smoke signals for those daring enough.

Everyone was in a state of panic or excitement except for one Francis Bonnefoy.

~S.S.C.O.T.Y~

Chapter 15.2: Champagne for My Real Friends, Real Pain for My Sham Friends

"Hey! How can you be so calm at a time like this? Your boyfriend is going around in sweatpants and just asked one of those weird kids to talk with him in private! Aren't you worried?"

Tino shot Emily a look that made her sit back down, hands quaking.

Rubbing his eyes, he picked up his water bottle and stood.

"I'm tired of this farce," he announced. All members of The Monarchy heard, but he really said it more for himself.

He needed to help himself for once.

"Feliks,"

"Yes?"

"Do you know where Berwald is sitting?"

"Umm," The teen fiddled with his neon green fedora, glancing around the lunchroom.

"I think he's sitting with Vash and Lina at the Neutral table. Why?"

Tino gave his friend a smile and a big hug.

"I'm tired. Alfred's gonna have to learn how to fix things by himself. He's a big boy now. But, direct him in the right direction okay?"

To the amazement of all students, a member of The Monarchy willingly stepped away from the High Table to sit amongst the commoners.

Once again silence reigned over the cafeteria.

"Can I join you?" Tino's smile was sheepish as he faced Vash, Lina and Berwald. The three looked up, but it was only the Swedish Junior that made room for the teen to sit.

"Interesting day huh?" The newcomer stated, grin widening. The rest nodded, a small smile on the lips of two of them.

"Is there room for another pair? We wanna change tables too ve~!"

Feliciano Vargas and Ludwig Beilschmidt were graciously accepted into the now expanding group.

"I thought you guys liked eating in the art room." Vash remarked. Feli gave Lina a wink before replying,

"We heard that there was going to be something exciting happening so we decided to come too! I should make crepes for everyone when this is over!"

"You'll have to wait a while," Tino remarked. "Since it's just starting-."

~S.S.C.O.T.Y~

"Now. The tides are changing."

"Why do you say that?"

Smiling, Francis elegantly gestured around the chaotic lunchroom. Students from major groups stood and switched tables, much to the horror of their original assembly. Fingers flew across text pads and girls screeched into their phones.

"Look around you Elizaveta, at all of _this_. People are sitting where they feel comfortable, not where there social rank places them. Prince Alfred has set off a revolution against his own father. I doubt the idiot even realizes it."

"_Nein!_ _He knows!_ He's probably going to pin the blame on Arthur!"

"That's, like, totally preposterous!" Feliks Łukasiewicz took a seat next to Elizaveta. Toris, smiling awkwardly, sat by his friend, giving a brief 'Hello' in greeting.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, I'm sure at least one of you knows all the details."

Elizaveta coughed, choking on the water she was drinking. Feliks grinned, but did not make eye contact as the girl turned red.

"Is there something you would like to tell us devil-woman?"

"Shut up Gil. As if you don't know."

"But I _don't_ know!"

Roderich gave his girlfriend's hand a tight squeeze while murmuring into her ear.

"_It should only be us and Francis that are aware. Tell no one else."_

She considered this command for a second, then shut her mouth, occupying herself with her phone.

Then the food fight started.

"Feliks! You fake, ratchet traitor!" Emily Liberty screamed. Mashed potatoes tied up in a napkin soared across the distance between the tables, landing in the boy's hair.

Upon seeing the darkening facial expression, the wise (Matthew Williams) quickly ducked under the table and the reckless (Gilbert Beilschmidt) instead threw missiles back with a wild laugh.

Within ten minutes, the biggest food fight Hetlia High had ever seen since its foundation erupted.

"What do we do Francis?" Elizaveta questioned. Francis smiled, watching as students who fled from there study halls burst in, joining the madness.

"Nothing. We wait for their little Prince to come back. Hopefully, my dear cousin will be able to resolve this revolt."

"Chigi! What are these bastards even going against?"

Francis didn't reply, choosing to stare fondly at the chaos beyond his fingertips.

Everything was going according to his plan.

~S.S.C.O.T.Y~

Rah! Almost at the finish line! There should be only 2 or 3 more chapters after this one! Next chapter is solely Arthur and Alfred so look forward to it!

Thanks for all the reviews, hits, faves, alerts and general support! (And for those that sent me PMs to urge me to hurry up with this chapter!)

Sscoty wouldn't be the story it is without you guys.


	18. END

Chapter 16: I've Got a Dark Alley and a Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth (Summer Song)

The warm grip on his hand was all he could focus on. Arthur ducked his head as his cheeks reddened.

He and Alfred were so close, and yet the mental gap between them was much too far. Within the past few months, they had become total strangers to each other. Arthur had changed, found out some things about himself that he really didn't want to let go of.

He wasn't sure if they could still be friends, let alone lovers.

With a gasp, he allowed himself to be abruptly tugged forward, outside of the building and into the clean courtyard. Snow littered the ground, a few flakes groggily falling from the gray sky.

As the other turned to face him, Arthur saw that Alfred wasn't wearing his usual, daily smile. His mouth was a straight line.

They were going to have a conversation, and a serious one at that.

Arthur put on his best poker face, but still allowed the other to hold both his hands. Before he began, Alfred let out a short breath of white steam.

And then the story started.

"_I'm in love with you."_

"_I don't believe you."_

"_Then I'll make you get over your trust issues."_

Chests aching, palms were held even tighter and eye contact remained, no matter how strenuous the act became.

"Tino's my cousin. He agreed to pose as my boyfriend so I could make you jealous. We were never anything serious. He's always had a thing for this Berwald guy actually."

Nervously, Alfred bit his lower lip, uncomfortable under Arthur's steady gaze.

"When we noticed that we were pushing you towards Francis and Mattie, we thought it was working, but instead we were just making the situation worse. When I saw you kissing Francis-."

Arthur held up his hand, interrupting the incorrect statement.

"That's an initiation tradition for our group. It wasn't romantic at all."

"I learned about that after. I also saw you got a bit of a personality change too." At this, he managed to pull out a small, yet genuine smile.

"What's different?" He questioned.

Alfred smiled as well, sending a sharp bang through his chest.

"You're _happy._ You're more relaxed. You're not the Knight of The Monarchy that just argued everything without really focusing on the conversation. You're not forcing yourself. You're more you."

The Brit didn't speak for a while, unsure of what to say.

"I was a Knight?" He asked finally, focusing on the less serious aspect.

"What's a Prince without a trustworthy Knight?"

Arthur scoffed, and finally broke eye contact, staring down at his black Converse to hide a blush. Absentmindedly, he picked at a rip in his skinny jeans.

He had changed. His personality, the way he dressed and the way he spoke. All of that had undergone a transformation, but his feelings were too stubborn.

Alfred was doing it again, making him feel at ease, breaking his walls down so that they could simply laugh together and everything will be alright.

He had done that so many times before for little things. But this….this feud was a huge one. Their entire relationship depended on the outcome of this talk.

Their relationship really depended on Arthur.

"You've changed too."

"Oh?"

"You've gotten sneakier Alfred. Or, do you go by the name of Flighter now?"

In a gesture of surrender, the athlete raised both his hands up.

"You caught me. Did anyone tell you or did you-?"

"I figured it out myself. You almost threw me off with the contacts though. I thought they were blue contacts instead of normal clear ones to replace your glasses."

"Glad to see you're still a smarty, Artie."

"And you're still a Fat Al. Never kiss me after eating that many sweets again. You tasted like Jolly Ranchers and Snickers. Sour candy and chocolate is not appealing to me."

Alfred smiled, taking a step forward. Gently, he rested a hand against the shorter's cheek, guiding his head up.

"But, that means I can kiss you before I eat that many sweets."

Green eyes widened and Arthur backed up two steps.

"I…We…The two…We've changed Al. Both of us. We're strangers now."

"Isn't dating used to find out more about the other person?" To this Arthur had no answer, he let Alfred grasp him once more, one secure arm around his waist and the other guiding his chin up until emerald green eyes met daring, stubborn sky blues.

"We'll find each other again, just give us time and a chance."

But it were the unspoken words that really mattered.

_Trust me._

And so, Arthur Kirkland acted against what his doubtful side told him to do, and lunged forward, pressing their lips in a heart-searing kiss.

It was a gentle embrace, filled with a sense of relief and joy at the end of conflict. Tenseness in shoulder melted away as skinny arms snaked around the athlete's neck, fingernails running through the small wisps of blonde hair.

A small laugh passed from the taller to the other as Arthur stood on the tips of his toes to properly reach the other. A slap to the shoulder ended the chuckle, however, and cherry red lips were caught once more.

Playfully, Alfred nipped at his lower lip as Arthur's grip on his neck tightened. As a strong hand snaked under a shirt.

The cock blocks arrived.

"_Hell yes! Get some SB!"_

"_Let's go Al! Like, you can totally dominate blondie's ass!"_

"_Oh my God Feliks! Shut up! They'll see us!"_

"_Bruder! Don't let the jock tower over you like that! Kick him in the balls and make him kneel before you!"_

"_Gilbert! I will actually kill you!"_

"_Mon amis! We have it! Plot development! Finally!"_

"_Get it cousin!"_

Sighing, the two broke apart, sharing a dark of annoyance.

"I hate all of my fucking friends."

"I hate mine too.

Slyly, Alfred brought his hand down to Arthur's, holding it loosely. Green eyes glanced down act the display of affection, then back up at his boyfriend's face.

Alfred wiggled his eyebrows.

Arthur pretended to barf.

But their hands remained clasped.

~S.S.C.O.T.Y~

Chapter 16. 2: 7 Minutes in Heaven (Atavan Halen)

When the pair arrived in the cafeteria, the lunchroom once again went silent. Food was everywhere, on the walls, tables, doors, students. The few lunch monitors present were hiding out in the kitchen, probably calling the police on their cellphones.

Alfred coolly stared down the entire lot, eyes resting on those present at The Monarchy table.

But all eyes were glued onto the pair of adjoined hands at his side.

Noticing this, Alfred raised their hands up.

"In case you're blind, or sitting way in the back, we're holding hands. Alfred Franklin Jones and Arthur Kirkland are dating. If there's any issue, you come to _me._ If you start spouting bullshit tho', I'll beat the effin' crap outta you. We're all too damn old for this shit. Except for maybe the freshman. We're not in middle school anymore. Get over your cliques and be you. Hang out with who you want to hang out with. Date who you like. Be proud of yourself and don't ever let someone bring you down."

He spoke like a leader directing his troops, strict yet caring for your best interest. His small speech was heartfelt, poorly written, but you could tell that it was genuine.

But, this was high school.

Crowds were too ignorant for that genuine stuff.

"_They're trying to corrupt the system!" _Someone screamed.

"_The system has been corrupted! They're fixing it!" _argued another.

Shouts of mutiny and revolution ran throughout the building and students began to put their hands on each other. A big brawl was to begin, but Alfred didn't linger to see who would throw the first punch.

"Let's go. No use in talking to them now." The couple turned and high-tailed it out of there as soon as food began to fly again.

"Where are we going?" Arthur questioned, breathless.

"Home. I cannot be here when those cops arrive. Classes will probably be cancelled anyway."

"But that's-!"

"Aww. Is smarty Arty scared?"

The Brit smirked. "Actually, I was going to say that we're going in the wrong direction. Security cameras everywhere in the front of the school. We have to go up to the roof instead."

"How do you know?"

"Gilbert taught me," Arthur said with a shrug.

Pressing a quick peck to his cheek, Alfred quickly switched directions.

2 hours later, when they were in the Kirkland kitchen, snacking on leftover pastries that were in the pantry, an interesting question arose.

"So, couldn't we have avoided this whole thing if you were just honest from the beginning?"

"Huh?"

"You could've just told me you liked me instead of going through that whole thing with Tino."

Alfred bit into two cookies while muttering,

"I was just a boy then. I wasn't thinking."

"And you're a man now?"

"_Yesh."_

Wincing, Arthur threw a napkin at the blonde.

"Men don't speak with their mouths full."

~S.S.C.O.T.Y~

Hetlia High was falling apart. Revolution posters were everywhere, on the walls, in the hands of students, even on the foreheads of some of the more liberal teachers. Officers scrambled to restore order, directing the orderly students to safer areas.

The Sophomore Slumps, however, were in the center of the mess, screaming their hearts out with their supporters against The Monarchy and their allies.

"_Down with the system!"_ They shouted.

"_Uphold the system!"_ The monarchy countered.

(_"Free V-Nasty!" "Oh my God Feliks shut up!")_

Wild shouts and glared were shot across the room at a rapid pace. Elizaveta was already wrapped up in a fight with the three Duchesses, yanking out extensions and smearing lipstick. Antonio and Romano were all over Sadiq, yelling words of venom and throwing punches at everyone that opposed them.

Gilbert and Francis, unfortunately, were the worst off. Underneath a particularly gruesome dog pile, they struggled to protect Mattie.

But the Canadian managed to do well on his own. Thinking fast, he slipped away just before a tackle could bring him down.

Things were getting crazy. At this rate, someone would get hurt. _Badly._ With this fact in mine, he ran to get the nearest officer and did what no one expected him to do.

_He lied._

Well, it wasn't exactly lying, as he would object later. He was simply avoiding certain parts of the truth.

He directed them to the main fiasco, explaining who was fighting for self-defense and those who were the attackers. (He couldn't help Romano and Antonio though. They were clearly vicious.)

On Elizaveta's behalf, he pressed the truth into a very thin line.

"She's up against three girls!" He protested.

"She's stomping them into the ground."

"But you weren't here when they broke her nose!"

The policeman nodded, running over the break up the feud.

A small sigh of relief escaped him as all students were dragged from the scene.

Now, there was one last thing he had to do.

Pulling out his cellphone, he began to call the two people that were the reason for the fiasco.

The Romeo and Juliet of Hetlia High

The Prince and his Knight

The Sophomore Slump and The Comeback of The Year

~S.S.C.O.T.Y~

_**2 Days Later**_

"Ow, ugh,_ Reme_ it pains."

"Si, _Mami, me duele mi brazo_."

"SB! Your mama's burning my hand!"

"Hush! All of you! Be good boys and sit quietly!"

Within the Kirkland living room, there was an interesting array. Of teenagers and children, all groaning with dismay. Some were injured, nursing colorful bruises. Others felt pity, and helped out by doing whatever an injured teen chooses.

Romano Vargas, his grandfather beside him, held out caramel toned knuckles allowing them to be disinfected.

"Thank god the wounds aren't too serious. I was worried you wouldn't be able to use that skateboard again."

Reddening, Romano leered down at his bandaged ankle, avoiding eye contact with his grandfather.

"It's just a sprained ankle…ain't nothing compared to Francis' broken leg…I'll be fine on a board…Didn't know you cared that much."

Julius's eyebrows rose in disbelief. Pressing a hand to his grandson's shoulder, he squeezed reassuringly.

"Why wouldn't I care? It's one of the few things that makes you happy. I may not like it, but you enjoy it."

As red as his favorite fruit, Romano cleared his throat, muttering something about "Crazy old men."

"But, of course, skateboarding is for wimps. Horseback riding, fencing and hunting is for real men. If you ever want to give up that dumbass skateb-."

"No thanks old man."

Fondly, Antonio Carriedo looked over the display from his spot on the opposite side of Lovino. Cradling an icepack against a heavily bruised arm, he carefully adjusted himself as he leaned over.

"What do you want bastardo?"

As Romano questioned this, the Italian began to turn and what was intended to be a sly whisper in his ear turned into a full out kiss on the lips.

Shrieks of glee escaped the mouths of three people on the floor: Feliks Lukasiewicz, Gilbert Beilschmidt, and Elizaveta Herdervary. Next to the three, Roderich Edelstein winced and clutched at his tea cup.

Feliks ran a hand through his new pixie cut as he laughed. Due to excessive damage done to his glorious locks in a horrid catfight, he had persuaded Leah to give him a discount haircut. (With the help of Elizaveta of course.)

"Like the new hair Beyonce?"

"Hell no," He grumbled. "Beyonce may able to wear a blonde pixie cut but I cannot. I swear I'm gonna kill Natalia next time I see her. Who the hell chews five pieces of gum just to put them in someone else's hair?"

"What about Ivan?" Gilbert questioned. An involuntary shudder ran through the Slumps in the room when the famous college freshman was mentioned.

"Never mind. Never mind. Not even willing anymore." Feliks winced as a shock ran through his shoulder. "God this sucks."

"You think so?" Gilbert pulled up his shirt and revealed a mural of colors. His stomach could've easily been mistaken for an abstract piece of art.

"Gil put that thing away and lie on the floor. " Matthew said, disgusted, as he brought a container of ice packs. Not too gently, he began to lay them across the German's torso. Elizaveta watched one, commenting absentmindedly,

"I still think Francis and I got the worst of it. He's in the hospital with a broken leg and black eye and I've got a broken nose, sprained wrist, broken ankle, stubbed toe-,"

"And a hideous bob cut." Feliks finished.

Self-consciously, Elizaveta patted the pink flower in her short hair.

"I thought it was cute."

"A cheap, blonde weave would be cuter than that thing. Don't lie to yourself."

Roderich stood, and leaned over his girlfriend, pressing a calming kiss to her temple.

"You're beautiful."

Cheeks stained red, she grinned, hugging him around his legs.

"You guys are worse than _them._"

A loud groan ran through everyone in the room. All knew who Gilbert was talking about without names being mentioned.

"Does anyone know where my son is?"

"Probably being de-virginized."

Romano snickered at this comment, but confirmed that the two had actual gone to visit Francis in the hospital.

~S.S.C.O.T.Y~

It wasn't the best of visits.

"Arthur, mon ami, it is a simple favor!"

"No Francis! What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

The Frenchman pleaded from his bed, looking at Arthur with wide baby blue eyes.

"Just cause a scene, si vous plait! Cause a scene so I can call the cute volunteer nurse in-!"

"But I'd get kicked out!" The Brit protested. Alfred caught him by the shoulders, dragging him out.

"Which one is it cuz? I've only seen two. There's a brunette and a blonde."

Francis grinned, calling the athlete his savior.

"The brunette. Tell her that I'm thirsty or something."

Alfred laughed as he dragged his boyfriend out of the hospital, briefly stopping to talk to the nurse.

Once they stepped outside, Arthur scowled. Cold bit at his nose, turning it a deep scarlet. He hastened his pace so he would be walking faster than the athlete. Alfred allowed this for the first few minutes, then caught up as Arthur's shoulders relaxed.

"You really shouldn't be letting him flirt like that."

"It's better that he's honestly flirting with her instead of coming up with some insane plan."

Arthur reddened as Alfred rested his hand on his waist.

"We…We really did something daft didn't we?"

"But we both received a lot from it."

"Mmm."

He spoke the truth. No matter from what perspective Arthur looked at the past few months, something good came out of the Sophomore Slumps crazy antics.

He had real friends. People he knew he could trust and depend on when things got rough. Friends that would be there for him even if his relationship didn't work out. Hell, he got a brother. Gil would officially be an adopted Kirkland soon. They would really be family. (And Elizaveta's brother could marry Gil's sister without any anguish on Elizaveta's part)

He got Alfred back. It was a long, perilous journey but they were finally getting to patch things up. But, there were still many faults in their relationship. Hopefully, they could work everything out before it was too late.

As if sensing what he was thinking, Alfred squeezed his hand.

"We'll be fine Artie. We'll just take it slow."

"Slow, huh…I guess that's the best way."

"Going slow is what wins races after all."

Arthur gave him a small smile and shake of his head.

"I want to go to a concert."

"Which one?"

There was only one band that Arthur needed to see.

"Let's go. Just the two of us. Let's be alone together at a Fall Out Boy concert."

_Yes._ That's what he wanted, what he needed. He needed that sense of closure that only that band could give live. To end this journey of self-growth, he would have to see the band that helped him along the way. He had to see them with Alfred.

Arthur Kirkland was, and had always been, a man of pride. This fact was evident in the way he carried himself, the way he spoke, how he was so sure about his opinions, and unafraid to express them when asked. But, it was because of his friends, that this arrogance had been altered into a friendlier form. He was no longer scared of making a total fool of himself, since they all did it for him quite frequently. He wasn't afraid to look like an idiot. He knew what he was. He didn't need anyone to tell him.

Arthur Kirkland was a Sophomore Slump.

_END: Sophomore Slump Or Comeback Of The Year_

_It's over. Thank all of you so much for the reviews, faves, alerts and those 2 community adds! You guys have been so supportive throughout this entire fic and I honestly wouldn't be able to finish this without you all. (A whopping 90k! I have never written that much for a fic before!) It's been an epic ride, and I'm sad to see it come to an end. I hope you guys enjoyed Sophomore Slump or Comeback of The Year!_


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